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Please post these chapters of my story to the week-by-week indexes.
Thanks,
C. Stanton Leman
---------------------------------
We won't tell. Get more on shows you hate to love
(and love to hate): Yahoo! TV's Guilty Pleasures list.
<1st attachment, "Child_Brides_of_India_1_Intro_1_.txt" begin>
Child Brides of India
By C. Stanley Leman
Introduction
I'm a new author posting my first story, and this is
the first piece of fiction that I've written since
college. If you're looking for a quick stroke story,
look elsewhere. For my first attempt, I'd like to
concentrate on the development of the characters and
their motives, and it starts out very slow. This story
contains elements of "legalized" consensual sexual
contact between adults and prepubescent/pubescent
partners, as one of the main talking points of my
story: can a child/young teen reasonably give consent
even if understanding and care is given to obtain it,
and what of the motives of the adult(s) in question?
I've tried to write a story where love, cultures,
customs, religion, and laws both secular and religious
are the catalyst and moving factors. Add to the mix,
the parties own insecurities, need for love, and
circumstances, I hope, make for an interesting story.
Although the main character is Muslim, I am not.
Therefore I've done extensive research on Muslim
customs, prayers, ceremonies as well as Islamic laws
mentioned or discussed within for this story. However,
not being infallible, a mistake or two may have
possibly made. It must also be noted that various
sects, denominations, and regions have slightly
different interpretations and practices also. If I
have erred in these areas, it's not my intention to
offend anyone but purely an unintentional mistake.
Many events in history, and some degree in people's
personal lives, can be motivated by adherence to
fervency of religious practice, or cultural customs,
and the internal struggle of character and ethics
within us while trying to confront and control the
demons each of us struggles with called desire and
lust. With justifications, 'reasons', and
rationalizations, sometimes we aren't even quite
certain ourselves what motivates us to do the things
we do.
This entire story is a figment of my imagination, and
is fictional. Any resemblance to anyone alive or dead
is purely co-incidental and unintentional.
I do not condone or advocate any acts contained
herein: it is an erotic fictional tale. They are
illegal in many countries. There is no excuse to abuse
a child or use a child for one's own needs or
fulfillment.
The story codes for this entire story haven't been
completely finalized, but are basically, slow, rom,
ped, cons, Mg, Mf, Mfg, fg, Mgg, oral, anal, ws, in
varying arrangements, but will be listed with each
chapter.
Any and all criticism can be sent to csleman (dot)
story (at) yahoo (dot) com. Drop me a line and give me
some feedback as to what you think: should I continue
or move on to something else?
I would really like to extend my gratitude and thanks
to Daibhidh and Uncle Sky for their editing help,
encouragement and support towards a new author!
Child Brides of India
By C. Stanley Leman
Chapter 1: Old Friends/New Horizons (set-up, no sex)
I guess my story begins while on my way home from
college. My name is Sean Michaels, I'm an academic
prodigy with a BE in computer engineering, an MBA in
international finance and a PhD in engineering systems
analysis all from Princeton. I am what many have
jokingly called "the kid with everything and nothing
to lose": looks, money and brains.
Now, at 18, I'm 6 feet tall, weigh about 190, with
medium blonde hair, blue eyes and a fit, cut physique.
I never really thought my looks to be personally
advantageous, although throughout high school and
college I was referred to as the "hunky kid geek".
Being born too smart for my own good, I was always
several years younger than my peers at school. I dated
occasionally, but nothing serious, not even a high
school romance. Well, that's not entirely true. I did
have one very close friendship that lasted a year,
with a girl named Marie. We parted when her father's
job transferred him to Paris. She was a fellow Mensa
student in high school. I was 15 and she was twelve,
and we were drawn to each other because we both felt
the pressure of being surrounded by peers that were
older and more socially adept. Our relationship was
one of close friendship that kindred spirits share
where we could talk of anything under the sun, seeing
most things with the same perspective, the same fears
and insecurities. I was attracted to her, but her
tender age (and my shyness) kept me from trying to
advance any intimate relationship further than holding
hands, a mutual hug, and an occasional kiss. It was
mostly a friendship of the heart in which we both
relied upon each other for emotional support and
understanding.
While in high school, girls my age were in middle
school, and high school girls liked upper classmen
that were jocks-with cars. Besides, ever since I
started public school, kids my age were far below my
academic and interest level. College was even worse.
College girls were dating men of twenty years and up
while I was just getting my driver's license: hard to
compete even for a genius. I was always the nice "boy"
that was asked to tutor and always "just a friend":
the kiss of death, I learned, for any guy regardless
of age.
Physically, I tried very hard to compensate for my age
by working out, swimming, golf, running track, and in
college rowed. Although I enjoyed the activities and
the results to my physique, they did little to enhance
my chances for any real relationship. As I once
overheard someone comment in the library, "...a man's
body, but still a kid." I did manage to get laid a few
times, so I guess you could say it wasn't ALL for
naught.
The last two (money and brains), were assets and gifts
I just had, and never made any apologies for having.
My father, John, was a wildcat computer engineer that
started his own private company during the DOT COM era
and struck gold. He had purchased 3000 shares of
Microsoft for me on its initial IPO to start my
portfolio, and now I'm worth a more than most people
make in a lifetime. I've never told anyone the extent
of my financial holdings, but people that know me,
know I'm affluent and being groomed for the corporate
world.
My mother, Joan, was an educator who gave up formal
teaching when I was born. She home schooled me until I
reached the age of 12, when she said that she felt
that she was failing me, holding me back from
achieving my "full potential." She felt I could easily
have entered high school much earlier. She also felt
it was time for me to meet other kids and acquire the
social skills I lacked with fellow students.
As for brains, I liked being smart, intelligent and
advanced: it was just the way I always was. Two years
for high school, two for my BA, one for my masters and
one for my PhD. I did however, have the insecurity of
feeling somewhat alienated from my surroundings and
social settings due to my age difference. I instead
embroiled myself in my studies to acquire the
necessary education and techniques required to assume
control of a portion, at first, them all of my
father's company when the time came, and continue on
to build my own empire.
Although my insecurities in personal relationships
with the opposite sex where there, I learned to be
very socially adept, tactful, and communicative- even
if only for survival in my surroundings with peers and
academics. Aside from girls, I was always in control
and appeared to be at ease in any setting.
I snapped out of my introspection when the cab came to
a stop at my front door. With all my credentials for
success in hand, I arrived home to a welcome-less,
empty family estate in Clarksville, Maryland, a
wealthy suburb of Washington, DC. I paid the cabbie,
gave him a generous tip, and walked through the front
door.
My parents (really, my Dad) didn't feel they needed to
be at my doctorate graduation because, as my dad put
it, "It's just fluff on a cupcake." Don't get me
wrong, as an only child, my parents love me dearly and
I them. They're in India right now where dad had moved
our manufacturing plant to New Delhi, making the
arrangements for me to begin taking over the plant as
senior VP of Operations.
Hauling my baggage up to my room, I dropped everything
on the floor, and flopped on the bed with a sigh of
relief thinking, "Boy, it's good to be home, even for
just a coupla' days." As I lazily stared at the
ceiling, it finally sank in that my life had reached a
major turning point.
The point being, now, I'm not fighting for grades,
class ranking and degrees any more, now it's all about
dollars, millions of dollars: my father's dollars, and
my dollars. It's now about the profit/loss statements,
P/E ratios, dividends, and NOI that are the standards
by which the financial world will judge me brutally.
The financial press has gotten an inkling of the move,
and had a quiet, watchful eye on the company (and me)
trying to decide if this will be a good move for the
company or simply a case of nepotism as usual.
Trying to lighten up my mood and prime myself into an
optimistic frame of mind for the future, I bounced off
the bed and headed to the kitchen to raid the 'frig.
"Hmmmm," I thought, looking around the empty kitchen,
"I wonder where Abby is?" She's our housekeeper/maid
(more like my second mom). "Oh well, you're a big boy
now, you can certainly feed yourself," I muttered,
scolding myself.
Sitting at the breakfast bar with my PB & J's and a
glass of milk, I wondered, "What's India really like?"
I'd done my research about the financials and the
government corruption, but what of the people, the
culture(s) and language(s)?" Being a new convert to
Islam two years ago, I recalled reading that there is
still a lot of unspoken animosity between Muslims and
Hindus, with Muslims coming up short on the political
and economic end of things since Hindus are the more
predominate and therefore the ruling faction. I still
didn't understand about their complicated caste
system, but I DID understand the prejudice concerning
skin color even among religious and economic equals.
It's the same in America, only now it's become
subtler. Women: now that's an issue. Although somewhat
more equal and better in the educated and more
affluent of society, they are still second-class
citizens. As for children, being the lowest in the
food chain right down there with the family's
possessions, their seemingly nonexistent rights were
constantly being trampled underfoot.
I began to think about how all corporations, large and
small, have implemented equal opportunity laws with
regard to hiring, salaries, and workplace etiquette...
"What if we, as a company, used the same practices in
India? Wouldn't THAT turn a few heads? It might cost
more to implement, but once in place, it could
possibly pay huge dividends in higher productivity,
quality and employee loyalty in the end. Besides,
isn't good business ethics simply good business? Hmmm,
something to consider and run by Dad."
Moving on to lighter fare, I decided that a few laps
in the pool, get loosened up and then a workout in the
gym would be more realistic and beneficial than
hulking around the house trying to scheme how to
change the world in my first move as a corporate
leader.
I changed, I did a brisk 10 laps in the pool, then
toweled myself off and headed to the gym for a few
'reps on the nautilus. After an hour-long workout and
cool down, I headed to my room and a shower.
After a refreshing shower, it was almost dusk, so I
laid out my prayer rug and began my evening prayers.
Before finishing evening prayers, because my life
would begin a new journey and direction, you know,
that uneasiness we all feel when our lives embark in a
new direction, I finished up my prayers with my du'a
supplication for guidance and reassurance from Allah:
"Oh Allah! I seek Your guidance by virtue of Your
knowledge, and I seek ability by virtue of Your power,
and I ask You of Your great bounty. You have power; I
have none. And You know; I know not. You are the
Knower of hidden things.
Oh Allah! If in Your knowledge, my journey and
endeavors in India is good for my religion, my
livelihood and my affairs, immediate and in the
future, then ordain it for me, make it easy for me,
and bless it for me. And if in Your knowledge, these
endeavors and the course of my life because of these
endeavors is bad for my religion, my livelihood and my
affairs, immediate and in the future, then turn it
away from me, and turn me away from it. And ordain for
me the good wherever it may be, and make me content
with it."
I felt a noticeable peace about things after I'd
finished my prayers. Calmly, and in a peaceful, more
cheerful mood, I then headed to the kitchen to
scrounge up dinner, when the phone rang. I glanced at
my watch; it's 7:05pm. If it's dad on the phone, it'll
be about 5:30am there: "Boy! He always was an early
riser." I thought shaking my head and reached for the
phone.
"Hello?"
"Hi son, I see you found your way back home alright.
How's the old homestead?"
"Empty, but still here. Even Abby seems to have left
me to my own devices. In a way though, it's kinda nice
to have the run of the place."
"I know what you mean. I do my best thinking in quiet
surroundings, that's why I get up so early. Kinda
mentally plan out my daily routine and psyche myself
up, if ya know what I mean?"
"Ditto Dad. What's up, anything in particular, or just
calling to shoot the breeze at extravagant rates?"
"Well, I not only called to say hi, but also to talk a
little about something in particular that I haven't
yet wrapped my head around. Do you remember meeting
that Indian government official at an Indian embassy
dinner in Washington DC last year? You know, the
Muslim man you spoke with at great length shortly
after you converted to Islam?"
"Oh yeah, I remember... a Mr. Haaseem, I think."
"Yeah, that's him. Adib Haaseem. Since then, he's
become an invaluable close personal friend and
business ally. He works in the Indian Office for
Foreign Business Affairs, and he's the only one I've
met that can cut through all the bureaucratic bullshit
and corruption to get me all the licenses, permits and
approvals to get and keep things moving here in India
and for our upcoming expanding facilities.
He's an honest and trustworthy man who's never asked
for a bribe or perk of any kind. Anyway, he's known
about you coming here to India to take things over and
we met in my office yesterday for quite a while
discussing the upcoming events.
At first, we spoke strictly of business matters, and
he made the suggestion that since you had to acclimate
yourself with your new surroundings: you know
geography, culture, food, and things like that... Well,
he suggested that I give you a couple of months to get
your feet planted. He even pointed out that Ramadan
would be coming up in a couple of months after you
arrive noting Muslim practice here in India is more
strictly observed and practiced than in the U.S. I
thought about it for a moment, and agreed that his was
probably a good observation, and that you'd adjust
better without the pressure of having to "jump right
into the fire" so to speak. I agreed with him that a
little time with the cultural learning curve was
indeed a sound move.
But then, the conversation took a different tone. He
became more reserved... almost humble and turned to what
he called "a matter close to his heart." I can usually
read a man by his eyes, and his are usually bright,
clear and open, but all of a sudden, I couldn't really
get a good feel for his mindset. He then looked me
right in the eyes, more softly and said that he'd
never asked a personal or professional favor of any
kind before and that he deeply valued our friendship.
He asked me if I would be willing to arrange a meeting
with you for a personal matter close to his heart, not
business."
"What did you say to that, Dad? How am I supposed to
help him with a personal problem when we've only
spoken once? I don't really know the man."
"That's what I was thinking, so I asked him 'what kind
of personal matter?'" but he replied, that if he told
me, would I agree not to disclose the nature of the
matter to you before you two met. I told him that I
didn't feel right in arranging a meeting on a matter
that obviously was of great importance to him without
giving you at least some idea of what he and you were
to discuss.
"Thanks for watching my back."
"No problem. What's a Dad for? Anyway, Here's the
kicker, son. He then looked straight at me, and it
looked almost like he had tears in his eyes, and said,
"I would like for Sean to meet my daughter, Sarah"
"WHAT? Did he really say that?"
"Yeah. At first, I didn't fully understand what he was
really trying to say, I simply laughed and said, "Is
THAT all? Sure! We can have you and the family over
for dinner one night and he can meet the whole family!
It is a little strange that we haven't done it sooner.
I still haven't met your wife and daughters." He shook
his head slightly and told me, "You don't fully
understand what I have asked. I would like to ask Sean
if we," At THAT I thought 'we?' "Could introduce the
two of them so that they may, how do you say, 'get to
know each other'. It would also give your family and
mine a chance to meet and get better acquainted." I
was astonished! I said to Adib "If I'm not mistaken,
you've just asked me to help you begin arrangements
for my son to marry your daughter: is that what your
asking me?"
"That's exactly what he's trying to say, Dad."
"Are you positive? Listen. He then sat back in his
chair saying, "It's more like an... introduction. I am
not asking for anything more than that they meet, and
that we all meet as two families in a social setting.
If he and Sarah express a 'mutual interest' at the end
of the evening to get to know each other better, then
they can agree to spend more time together to become
better acquainted. If either Sean or Sarah feel that
they aren't interested- for whatever reason, then
their meeting is nothing more than two families having
a sociable dinner. Again, I'm not asking for anything
more than for the two of them to be introduced to each
other and talk. It's neither my intent nor desire to
force my daughter or your son into something that
either of them do not want or are uncomfortable with.
My only request of Sean is that he and Sarah meet:
nothing more."
"Dad..."
"I still couldn't believe what 'my friend' had just
asked me."
"Daad?"
"Stop interrupting! Let me finish! So I asked him,
"Why Sean? Why now? I don't keep track of his personal
life, and I'd never try to 'suggest' to my son whom he
should or shouldn't meet: it's just not in our culture
to do these things. He's a grown man, and free to make
these decisions on his own. So, I again ask you: why
Sean?"
Adib went on to tell me, "For several reasons. First,
they are both Muslim, BUT..." and with this he raised an
eyebrow and continued, "Muslims with similar interests
in life: they're both academically advanced, both
being of a higher IQ, although she's not to the degree
as Sean, and advanced in studies above their peers,
along with the some of the same insecurities that go
along with that. Sean is an honest man who has shown
to be in control of himself, of amiable temperament
and with an open mind. He is also helpful and
understanding with a gentleness beneath his outward
confidence."
A little shocked, because it appeared that he was
speaking about my son with the intimate knowledge of a
close friend or someone who'd spent a lot of time with
you, so I cautiously asked him, "How do you know so
much about Sean?" Adib went on to tell me, "I was
impressed very much at our first meeting and
conversation, and I have, of my own confession,
'followed his progress' since then."
I figured that I'd heard enough for the moment, and
told him, "I'm a little taken back by your admission
of having 'followed Sean's progress,' and I'm not
quite sure what that means, but I cannot and will not
give you any assurance that Sean will meet with you on
this topic or even agree to your request. Even if,
after approaching him, he chooses not to, will this
impede any further relationship with me, my son or
future business dealings?" Adib warmly smiled saying,
"My dear friend, our friendship will certainly endure,
as will my admiration of you and Sean. I will respect
Sean's decision either way. I've done what I feel is
my duty as a father and have made my request known for
consideration. If it's the will of Allah, it shall all
come to pass. I will take my leave for now, good
friend. May the peace of Allah be upon you and yours
always." All right. Now you can give me your take on
the matter and say your piece."
"Dad..." I began, as I tried to string facts and get my
thoughts together, "Yes, I'm a Muslim, but a rather
new convert to the faith and not fully versed on all
of the workings of certain aspects of the faith: one
of those is namely, courtship and marriage. If my
understanding of some of what I've heard from other
Muslims is true, they don't 'date': not like
westerners think of dating. The parents are the
primary catalyst for the marriages of their children
both men and women, and most children won't marry
someone their parents don't approve of. Parents select
potential spouses for their children based on criteria
other than physical attraction. Namely, attributes of
faith, education, personality traits, social standing
and status, and things like that. Kinda like these new
online dating services that advertise 'compatibility'
profiles. Any way, after the parents select a suitable
suitor, they approach his or her parents to arrange an
'introduction.' This is all done in a closely
controlled and chaperoned environment. To the parents,
physical attraction is NOT a consideration, but a plus
and use it to get the couple to want to know more
about each other, but its not necessary because
primary attention is given to whether they both like
each other's qualities as a lifetime partner to ensure
a life long marriage. This is what should decide
whether or not the couple actually does marry. Both
parties, meaning the potential couple, must agree and
consent to a 'courtship' and mutual consent to marry
each other or the marriage is declared invalid. I
really do believe Dad that devout Muslims don't force
their children to marry against their will. From what
I've just told you about my understanding of Muslim
courtship, Mr. Adib Haaseem is politely asking me to
consider his daughter for marriage, going through you,
the head of the family, as is the custom. Does this
make sense to you, Dad?"
Silence...
"Dad?"
Still more silence...
"Dad? Are you there?"
"Yes son, I'm still here, just totally shocked: un-
fucking-believably shocked as a matter of fact. Aren't
you? Damn! What now? They don't teach THIS shit at
Princeton business school!"
"Well Dad, I'm not sure why I'm not shocked: quite
surprised as to why me and the timing, but not
shocked. That's probably why he engineered you into
that 'cultural learning curve' idea, with a detour to
get to know his daughter. Don't get me wrong I agree
with the learning curve idea, but it's also a win/win
situation for him. He didn't exactly lie to you about
the arranged marriage part, he just redirected the
conversation. Let me ask you Dad, just how good a
friend is he? How sincere do you think his motives
are?"
"I feel he was truly sincere and to answer your
question, he's a very close and steadfast friend.
That's why I'm so floored by this: I thought I really
knew him better than that. I never saw it coming. How
could he do this to me?"
"My first adult glimpse of fallibility in my father! I
think he truly believes he's doing the right thing for
his daughter and family. That motivation makes people
do strange things sometimes. Well then, just for the
sake of conversation, what would it hurt to simply
meet the girl, what's her name? Oh yeah, Sarah. The
least that can happen is that we have a nice sociable
dinner together, I meet her, and that's that. The
'worst' that could happen, is that I get swept off my
feet. Ha, Ha! But then again, do you think that the
tension around the 'unspoken event' wouldn't make for
a reasonably comfortable setting for both our
families?"
"I can tell you this son, all eyes and ears would
certainly be, either directly or indirectly, on the
two of you with every gesture, expression and word
scrutinized and analyzed! I was so floored by the
conversation that I didn't even get any info regarding
his daughter: ya know? What she looks like, age all
that other stuff."
"He probably wouldn't have given you much anyway. Like
I said, they're more concerned about the qualities
that make a good spouse, not the physical aspect. Dad?
Do you believe in love at first sight?"
"I certainly do, but I also believe that even though
it happens a lot, it's not a common thing -- not true
love anyway."
"So what are the odds? A thousand-to-one? A million-
to-one? I say we play the odds and accept his request,
we make a dear friend happy, and leave it at that. You
always told me I needed to adapt to ever changing
circumstances. I'll meet many more people under
strange situations before my life is over. Why shy
away from it from the start?"
"It's up to you son, I'm not going to tell you yes or
no. Yes, he's my good friend, but you're a man, and
it's your decision whether this is the right thing to
do or not."
"Tell you what. I'll pray about the situation, and
think it over. I'll be leaving day after tomorrow and
I'll give you my decision when I get there. How's that
sound to you? Make sense?"
"Makes good sense to me, son. Whether you pray to
Jesus or to Allah, praying to God never hurt any man's
cause."
"Good. Now, how's Mom: does she like it there?"
"Mom's fine. She's having a great time! Spends most of
her time sightseeing and spending a lot of my money of
Indian art objects. Son, do you want me to..."
"Yeah Dad, tell her about it. She needs to know. If it
happens, she'll be as much involved as everyone else
in the room. Besides, I'd kinda like to hear what her
take is on all of this."
"Yeah, OK son. I can hear her now. She'll have a
golden cow! By the way, I'm sure I've got your flight
information somewhere, or my secretary does, but give
me a call before you take off with the your arrival
time and flight number will ya?
"Sure Dad. And Dad? Don't worry about this too much.
Like he said, it's all in Allah's hands. If it's
ordained to happen, it will. Tell Mom I love her, and
may the peace of Allah reassure your heart and hers. I
love you Dad."
I love you too son, God bless, and I'll talk to you
tomorrow. Bye now."
"Bye Dad."
I hung up the phone, and then turned to resume my task
of making myself some dinner. As I took out some
veggies and began to dice them up for a quick stew, I
began to mull over the strange conversation I'd just
had with my Dad. I wondered, "Why?' Behind every
action is a motive. What was Adib's motive? Was it
simply to arrange a marriage for his daughter because
he truly felt I was a good candidate? Was it power? He
seems to have plenty in the Indian government. Was it
money? Getting a daughter married to a wealthy
American definitely has its advantages, and maybe
using this as leverage for yet other motives. He has
definitely proven himself a cunning, patient man: he
sure stood Dad on his ear and that's pretty hard to
do!" I decided to follow the route of my potential
adversary: with patience and cunning. I'll meet with
Mr. Haaseem, and try and use this 'matter close to his
heart' as a pry bar to try and see what was under his
proverbial rock. With that, I piled all the veggies in
the pot, set it to boil, then decided to check out
what's on the tube. Finding nothing worthwhile on TV,
I decided to eat and hit the sack early.
I awoke with a start when the alarm went off at 6am. I
lay there for a minute until my head cleared enough to
focus, and then started to move. Groggily, I rolled
out of bed and headed to the bathroom for my morning
ritual of relief, shower and shave, then got dressed
for morning prayers.
At the conclusion of my morning prayers, I repeated
the du'a I had made the evening before, again asking
for guidance about things and events associated with
my move to India. Again, when I'd finished I felt a
strange calm about everything. I cautiously thought to
myself, "Either Allah IS in total control, or I'm a
fool walking into the lion's den..." Feeling the pangs
in my stomach, I headed down to the kitchen for
something to eat.
Abby, right on time like the old days, was setting a
plate of eggs and home fries on the table with her
usually cheery "Hi, sleepy head!"
I smile and look at her for a moment with a sudden
fond remembrance and reply, "you're always there for
me aren't you?"
"Always am, always will be. Look sweetie, I hate to
cut you short," talking while removing her apron, "but
I've got a lot of things to do today, so I better get
an early start, so if you don't need anything else,
I'm off. Oh by the way, there's a fresh pot of coffee
on the counter. Bye, love ya, see you later."
I sat holding my fork, grinned and shook my head and
said, "Love you too, see you late...r." She was already
out the door.
My day was pretty much preplanned, namely, packing and
getting ready for my flight to New Delhi early the
next morning.
I did several loads of laundry: underwear, socks and a
lot of casual stuff, folded it and got it packed. I'd
get a laundry service over there to iron what I wanted
later. Thankfully, Abby sent a couple of my favorite
suits to the cleaners and they were hanging in the
laundry room along with a couple of light weight suits
I had ordered online, ready to pack.
With the majority of my packing finished, except for
some minor last minute things, I said my evening
prayers, ate a friendly dinner with Abby, discussing
my future plans, then decided to call Dad with my
flight arrangements before turning in.
Dialing my Dad's number, the phone rang three times
when a woman answered, "Hello? Michael's residence."
I asked for my Dad, and the voice on the other end
responded for me to please wait a moment.
"Sean? Good to hear from ya again. Are ya packed and
ready to go?
Yeah, Dad, just a few last minute things to put
together. I called to give you my flight info. I'm
flying Northwest, but the last leg is handled by KLM.
I take off from BWI at 7:30am tomorrow, and land in
New Delhi on Sunday evening at 10:30pm with an
overnight layover in Amsterdam on Saturday. My flight
number is 2345. I hope the late hour doesn't pose any
real problem for you."
No problem, son. Mom and I'll be there to pick you up.
Any last minute jitters?"
Nah, Dad, it's just I hate those long flights. In a
way though, it'll be a good thing: give me some time
to think, ya know?"
Well, not to rehash to same thing over again, I'd say
you've got some thinking to do."
"It won't be that big a deal, Dad. Like I said, don't
worry about it too much. Everything will work out
fine."
That remains to be seen. Well, I'll let you go to get
some rest for the big trek tomorrow. We'll see you at
the airport, OK son?"
"Sure, Dad. See you Sunday night. Love you, tell Mom I
love her too, and let the peace of Allah reassure
yours and Mom's hearts."
"See ya, son, we both love you too. Have a safe trip.
Bye, now."
"Bye Dad."
With that, I went to bed.
Continued in Chapter 2...
<1st attachment end>
<2nd attachment, "Child_Brides_of_India_2.txt" begin>
Child Brides of India
By C. Stanton Leman
Chapter 2: Best Laid Plans (slow, no sex)
While my Dad and I were discussing his conversation
with Adib Haaseem on the Thursday before I took off
for New Delhi, there was another set of events
happening at the Haaaseem residence in New Delhi...
"Assalamu aliakom," Salima, Adib's wife said when
answering the phone.
"Wa aliakum asslalm," replied Adib to his wife, "Have
you been preparing Sarah for the meeting? Praise
Allah, peace be upon Him, I believe that Sean will
agree to meet with her, although it may be a little
awkward because both of the families will be present.
I still have to await a call from either John or
Sean."
"Yes, husband, I have Sarah and Priya at the dining
room table discussing how and what takes place at an
introduction."
"Why is Priya there?"
"She is of marriageable age by Islamic law, and she'll
need to learn this at some point in time. I felt it
better to explain some of this to her as well, so that
when the time comes for her, she won't be so shocked
by the suddenness of it all as with Sarah. What I'm
teaching them now is just the formalities, the
gestures, posture, how to speak, reading the man's
body language: things of that sort.
Besides, if our hearts are right in this, it's my
duty as a mother to educate Priya also. This way,
Priya feels included, even if indirectly, and sees it
as a mother explaining what lies ahead for both of her
daughters. Being secretive and paranoid about things
only invites resentment from her.
Frankly, I don't think Sarah is emotionally and
mentally mature enough: she's only two years ahead of
her class, nor does she have the physical presence and
appearance to attract an American with Sean's
attributes. She has a fuller figure than most
Americans like, and she's not as quick witted. When
she gets nervous, her English also begins to falter.
If she can't allure him at first glance, I'm afraid
things will go downhill for her from there."
"Well, Salima, once you get her alone, you need to
impress upon her that we have diligently searched our
hearts with Allah's help and believe that we've found
a suitable husband and lifelong partner for her."
"Adib, I just hope we're not putting too much pressure
on Sarah. You know how she gets when she feels she's
tasked to perform. She needs your reassurance and
confidence in her abilities. I'm afraid that she kind
of feels that this is some sort of test she has to
pass to win our approval -- especially yours. She'll
likely take a rejection very personally, even if she
feels she's trusting completely in Allah on the
outcome."
"Reassure her that all is in Allah's hands, and to be
at peace with the results Allah presents to her. She
needs to pray for guidance and dispel her fears. I
will also do what I can to put her at ease. Your job
is to assure she knows how to act: chaste and humble.
Does she realize that we feel that we've found in Sean
a man capable of fulfilling all of her needs:
emotional as well as material?"
"Yes, but all of that doesn't matter if he doesn't
want to pursue her. Any girl, regardless of her faith,
would take a rejection personally in varying degrees.
When a girl lays herself open to inspection, who and
what she is, especially in a room full of people
watching their every action, and she's rejected -- for
whatever reason -- that's all she has to offer. She has
no experience with boys, much less a man... Sean may be
the right man for her, but if the time isn't right for
her, Allah, peace be upon Him, may, in His wisdom deny
your wishes for her."
"That may be true, but I also think Salima, we need to
help her present her physical flaws in a more pleasing
manner. Give her less to worry about. What do you
think?"
"I think you're treading on dangerous ground here. You
know what the Koran states regarding dress. She's not
allowed to enhance or accentuate her physical
appearance: good or bad. It would be like prostituting
herself. You know very well, if he finds her
attractive as a person, her physical flaws are
immaterial."
"I don't mean openly displaying her charms in a
favorable light, but listen for a moment. For example,
if we dressed her in a black sari, it would give her a
slimmer appearance, and it is an acceptable color.
That's not displaying anything: good or bad. We could
dress Priya in white, which would make her skin color
appear darker than it really is. This could draw
Sean's eyes to Sarah's fairer complexion."
"Adib! I can't believe you just said that! Attempting
to make either of your daughters 'appear' any other
way than honestly is a sin! Besides, how could you do
that to Priya? You'd injure the heart of one child for
the sake of another? You know how Priya has suffered
because of this!"
"Look. Although she's darker than you, you found a
loving husband in spite of your color didn't you?"
"Yes, but my father was as pained as I was because I
suffered the same indignities as Priya: and still do.
How can you rationalize your thinking to accommodate
such a thought! My father took great care to try and
shield me from it as much as he could. He also took
great pains to find me a husband that saw past my
color to see the real person inside. My love for you
and yours for me had giving me the strength to
overcome my pain. He would NEVER try to accentuate my
pain in any way as a means to an end. I feel hurt that
you'd even suggest this! You need to reconsider this
carefully."
"You just have to find a way to impress upon her that
this is Sarah's time: hers will come when Allah and
her parents feel so moved, and we will try as hard for
her as we are trying for Sarah. She just needs to
sacrifice a little for her sister, she'll understand.
Do as I ask and explain things to her. I'll talk to
her also.'
"I will do as you ask, and take the girls out tomorrow
and buy the saris, but there is a bitterness in my
heart for my child that will NEVER leave until she has
found a man who will shield her from these
indignities. You have wounded my heart, Adib, and I
fear we bring Allah's wrath upon us for this deed."
"What does Sarah have to say about the whole process
of meeting a man for the possibility of marriage?"
"That's another thing. She feels unsure and a little
frightened by the suddenness of the whole thing.
Because of the very 'flaws' that you speak of, she's
like many girls her age. She not only feels insecure
about her body, and also her sister's better academic
achievements, but also in your love for her right now.
She's thinking you may be trying to 'marry her off,'
or get rid of her because she's not pleasing in your
eyes. I've tried to reassure her and reinforce the
idea that it's because we love her immensely and are
looking for a lifetime of happiness for her. But the
more we discuss this, the more I fear she's not
emotionally ready for the separation from us: and
especially you. She really does crave your approval
and love.
I am also beginning to have doubts about Allah's,
peace be upon Him, wisdom in this. This should be a
time of expectation and happiness with a clear
conscience and conviction that we're doing the right
thing. I fear that if you try to force these events,
you'll end up hurting not one, but both of your
daughter's hearts and drive them away from us. I need
to find a way, and the strength to try and explain
your wishes to Priya... I fear I'm about to commit a sin
against my daughter."
"Don't cry, Salima. Neither child should see any tears
or confusion from you. I truly believe that I have
Allah's, peace be upon Him, blessing in this endeavor.
If things don't work out, we simply continue to look
for suitable husbands for our daughters. If it's
ordained to be, then it shall come to pass, don't you
agree?"
"On that last statement, I do agree. I shall pray and
encourage the girls to pray also more fervently on
this matter for guidance, peace and reassurance."
"We still have several days to ease the girl's minds
and prepare them for the evening. I think you need to
concentrate on Sarah and her fears. I'll do the same.
Priya is a very intelligent and empathetic girl, and
understands her sister's insecurities much more than
you think she does. She'll be alright."
"Yes! It's her tender and empathetic heart that will
make this pain all the worse! You're asking her to
verify all the indignities to advance her 'fairer'
sister's cause! It shall be on your heart if she's
hurt by all of this."
"I'll be home tomorrow evening by 6, and we'll have a
nice family meal together, and put things in their
proper perspective. OK?"
"Fine. But I have to tell you, I'll do what I can, but
you'll bear the brunt of making this right. I am
slowly loosing my conviction, and being as close as I
am to them, I'm not sure I can truly hide my feelings.
How this all turns out may have an effect on our
relationship... I hope you know that."
"Salima. We've been married for 18 years. I love you
and my family more than life itself. In all those
years, have I done anything to put any member of my
family in jeopardy? Would I drive a wedge between us?
Do you really believe that?"
"No, not consciously, but sometimes, in our desire to
do the right thing, we can set into motion a chain of
events we can no longer control, and with unexpected
consequences. This is all I'm saying. Be absolutely
certain of your motives: if they're pure, all will
work out. If you try to force the will of Allah, we
can spent the rest of our lives in painful repentance
to no avail."
"I love you Salima. I'll see you and the girls
tomorrow evening. Assalamu aliakom."
"Wa aliakum asslalm. I love you too."
After evening prayers and further discussion with the
girls over dinner, some of it fraught with tears and
pleadings followed by reassurances of love and
support, the three of them retired early, each to her
own prayers and supplications.
After morning prayers and breakfast, the three headed
to the seamstress to purchase Sarah and Priya's saris.
Sarah's would be a black sari with the pallu trimmed
in gold, with a black petticoat and choli, finished
off with black beaded slippers. Priya's would be white
with a pallu trimmed in light blue with a petticoat,
choli and beaded slippers of powder blue.
(NOTE: I later learned these terms, but a sari is one
continuous piece of material of 5-6 yards. Underneath,
a skirt called a petticoat is worn which is waist-to-
ankle length, and tied at the waist with a drawstring
along with a blouse or choli. The long choli extends
to the waist, where a short choli ends right below the
bust. The sari is worn by tucking in the plain end
onto the petticoat at the right hip, and a number of
pleats are made and folded. These pleats are tucked
into the petticoat using the naval as a center,
wrapping the fabric again around the waist and then
draping the fabric over the left shoulder. This draped
material and remaining material becomes the pallu. The
remaining material can then be either wrapped under
the right armpit or over the shoulder, wrapped around
the back, over the left shoulder (or used as a head
covering), and the remainder draped around the bust
over the right arm. It can be wrapped to either hide
or accentuate the figure. Sorry for the interruption.)
Both girls were excited about buying such beautifully
detailed dress saris, but at the same time, quietly
subdued. Each knew the significance of the choice of
colors, and while Sarah was thankful for the
flattering color, she guiltily felt what was on
Priya's mind.
Priya was outwardly as happy as she could bring
herself to be. She felt, however, betrayed by her
father's actions, and tried to hide the sting in her
heart.
Salima looked at Priya and thought, "Oh, my dear
child! Your eyes cannot hide what your smile tries to
cover. I know all too well your pain, and I pray to
Thee, O Allah, my strength and my hope: Please turn my
child's pain to joy, let her heart be quieted by Your
gentle reassurance."
With purchases in hand, they all returned home to
await Adib's return for dinner and discussion.
Continued in chapter 3...
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<3rd attachment, "Child_Brides_of_India_3.txt" begin>
Child Brides of India Ch 3
By C. Stanton Leman
Chapter3: Arrival: Advice and Consent (slow, no sex)
I was one of the last to clear airport customs. Mom and
Dad were there, waiting for me with smiles, hugs and
kisses all around. We got my luggage loaded in the
limo and headed for what was now to be my new home.
We first talked of inconsequential things: the house
back home, the end of college, my unexpected 'cultural
learning curve' sabbatical, and the upcoming
challenges I might face in a few months. Then, my dad
broke the ice about our earlier conversation.
"Well, son, have you given any thought to what you'll
do about that matter we discussed?"
My Mom jumped in and said, "John. First off, we're all
family here: there's no need to be so cryptic. Second,
why not let him get home and settled in before
discussing anything specific. Let's have this
conversation in more comfortable surroundings when we
have time to devote to the issue."
"Thanks, Mom," I replied, "But to give you the short
of it, I have given it some thought and prayer, and
I'd like to get some advice from an Imam about what my
duties and responsibilities are during the meeting
with Adib, and the 'introduction,' if I choose to
agree to it.
I believe there is a type of protocol or decorum that
is required, and what do I do about my decision
afterwards -- either way. There's just so much I'm not
clear about, and I don't want to offend anyone, or
worse, not correctly follow the teachings of Islam in
this matter. Does that make any sense?"
"Makes perfect sense, son," my Dad said cutting in,
"You need to get all the information you think you
need to make an informed decision. I just regret that
I've put you in this position."
"Good!" My Mom chimed in, "Now we can put off
arranging our son's wedding to another day, and I can
have him for a couple of days all to myself!"
"Gosh, Mom, you're sure taking this pretty lightly
aren't ya?"
"No, in a way, it's kinda exciting to actually see the
workings of other cultures first hand, especially
where women are concerned, but in another, I guess
it's my way of coping with a strange situation that
could affect all our lives. Don't let the humor fool
ya: your happiness is my first and only concern."
"That's why, Mom, I want to get this right the first
time. IF and when I do decide to marry, I'll have to
follow Islamic precepts to do so: no matter whether I
marry here or anywhere else."
We'd pretty much talked the topic out for the time
being, and I began asking mom about her cultural
excursions and spending spree. Soon, we were pulling
up to the house, and me to a chance to work off the
jet lag in a real bed.
After recuperating a few days, and acclimated myself
to the time difference, I used the services of my
Dad's Indian secretary in an attempt to set up an
appointment with the Imam of the Jama Masjiid mosque,
the largest mosque in India, which also happens to be
in New Delhi. It took her several days, but she was
able to arrange for me to meet with him through a
Muslim translator that Thursday, two days hence.
I arrived at the mosque in time for evening prayers,
and afterwards, with a Muslim colleague of my father's
translating, the Imam and I made our introductions,
and so we began our meeting.
"Assalamu aliakom," I spoke as I placed my hands
together in front of me and slightly bowed... I hope
this is correct, I wondered.
"Wa aliakum asslalm," he replied with a smile, and
with that, he extended his hand, which I shook
respectfully.
He, seeing my apprehension as to how to start, quietly
began, "I understand you are a new convert to Islam,
and would like to discuss a matter of concern to you.
Praise be to Allah, peace be upon Him. You are seeking
direction regarding the correct practice of courtship
and marriage according to Islamic law, is this so?"
"I think so, Imam," I replied, I then went on to
repeat, in detail, the conversation I'd had with my
father regarding Mr. Haaseem's proposal for an
'introduction' to his daughter. I also explained what
my understanding of the custom as I had related to my
dad. I then asked him, "Is this a formal request by
him to meet and consider his daughter as a possible
bride?"
"Yes, it is," he replied. "Matters such as these are
spoken of politely and indirectly as a matter of
custom. Otherwise, it might be taken in offense. It is
important to understand that during conversations such
as these, respect is shown to all persons concerned:
especially the woman. If she's a virgin of legal age
or not, she's usually never present at the father's
first request, and sometimes neither is the intended
male suitor. Many times, these initial requests are
made between the fathers of the intended couple. I
take it from the events you've just explained she's a
believer?"
"Yes, Imam, She is from a Muslim family. Mr. Haaseem
has requested to meet with me personally (through my
father). Is this because I'm of legal adult age and
have the right to make my own decisions?"
"The first step is verified in that it's preferable
that you marry a Muslim. You must remember, my son,
that legal age in Islamic law doesn't necessarily mean
fully grown. In Islamic law, when a boy reaches 15
years of age, or becomes sexually potent, he is
considered a man. But there is also the concept of
Rashd, which is translated as "a mature ability
towards sensible conduct." This is to insure that he
is capable of maturely discharging his duties as a
husband and to his family. For the girl, the term
Rashidah means the same thing. The normal acceptable
minimum age, in Islamic law, for a virgin girl is, by
interpretation, to be 8, or having reached puberty
with menarche being the indicator. At that age, she
must still be able to demonstrate a certain level
Rashidah. If she demonstrates the maturity to consent,
with her guardian's consent, to marriage, and being
able to know what it means and to consent to
consummation of the marriage, it is a valid marriage
contract"
Now, it was MY turn to be shocked, as I interjected,
"Are these marriages actually legal in India? Isn't
this a form of pedophilia? How can a child of 8, who
still plays with toys, have the mental and emotional
maturity to properly examine the consequences of such
a decision on her life?"
After a moment of silence (I guess to calm the
conversation), he began again. "Each case is
different, as are people. And yes, Indian law
recognizes many of these marriages. Although the usual
norm is to marry someone more to one's own age, there
are parents who arrange marriages for their virgin
daughters at an early age. In any event, the girl must
consent, or the marriage contract is invalid."
"What do I do if this girl, Sarah, falls into this
category?"
"Then each man decides for himself. If the girl's age
is unacceptable to you, then terminate any further
meetings. If she does demonstrate maturity beyond her
years, then look at her qualities more critically,
because people, especially the young, change over
time."
"God forbid, that I be attracted to a child..."
"Whatever her age, Allah, peace be upon Him, has your
bride handpicked, and will present her to you when He
deems all is ready to be ordained."
"So, what questions may I ask the father concerning
the girl in order to decide on meeting her?"
"Let us back up for a moment," the Imam said looking
at me seriously, "Are you considering taking a wife?
Have you prayed about this? Or is this a matter that
has been thrust upon you by the girl's father by his
request?"
"That's part of my problem," I said. I then went into
detail about the prayers and supplications I'd made
regarding my coming to India, my new job and any
direction these events may take my life, and the
feeling of peace that I'd experienced after praying. I
also went on to tell him that I'd prayed about this
meeting and introduction and what it might bring, and
again, I had no misgivings or feelings of negativity
about any of it. In light of this, I interpreted my
feelings as Allah having not yet revealed His will for
me, but had no fear of agreeing to the idea. I just
needed guidance on how to properly proceed according
to Muslim law.
"If what you're telling me is true, I'd say, after
meeting with her father, and you are satisfied by your
initial inquiries that she is acceptable for you to
meet, then meet the girl. It may be that Allah, peace
be upon Him, has a help-mate for you in your new
journey."
"Alright then," I went on, "Again, what questions may
I ask the father concerning the girl in order to
decide on meeting with her?"
"General questions, such as, her name and age. You may
ask general questions as to her physical appearance
such as height, does she have any physical or mental
deformities. Her health: can she bear children? But do
not ask pointed questions about physical appearance so
as to determine her physical desirability, how do you
in the west say, her sexiness: this is forbidden.
Most important is her other qualities: how strong is
her faith? Is she of strong character: can she act in
your best interests, forsaking her family in deference
to her husband? Is she good-natured? How well does she
get along with her siblings? Her parents? With others?
Is she family oriented? What of her schooling and
education? When you talk to her, does she seem like
you and she would be compatible: is she easy to talk
to? Can you talk freely to each other or is it
strained? Is she prone to secrets? It is a sin to
mislead or lie to each other.
Islam considers marriage a holy contract, and not to
be taken or entered into lightly. By evaluating the
qualities of a woman for marriage, you must ask
yourself, does she possess the qualities that are
complimentary to mine that will ensure a lifelong
partnership."
"I see," I replied while trying to digest all he'd
said, "And what if I feel we have no 'connection:' not
so much a physical one, but a mental and emotional
connection that sees qualities she might possess that
are yet to be revealed by getting to know her better?"
"Then, compliment her in the name of Allah, and
truthfully tell her that you feel it is not meant for
you to be her husband. Women are fragile creatures,
and as such, you are admonished to be kind and gentle
to her, and show her respect; even though she may feel
rejected, that pain is far less than an unhappy
marriage. If Allah ordains the marriage, there will be
something about her that will move your heart to seek
out the source. Deep within her where that source
resides, you will find your bride. The rest is up to
you and your personal walk with Allah, Praise and
peace be upon Him."
"What if we make that 'connection,' and we're both
moved to get better acquainted?"
"Your understanding of Muslim courtship is correct.
The Prophet Mohammad, peace be upon Him, has stated
"Not one of you shall meet a woman alone unless she is
accompanied by a relative." The Prophet, peace be upon
Him, also said, "Whenever a man is alone with a woman,
Satan is the third among them." These admonishments
are to prevent lust from being a factor. We must
always follow the commands in the Koran, which tells
couples to "lower their gaze and protect their
modesty." This may be evidenced by the girl only
glancing at you momentarily, and not looking you
directly in the eyes for any length time. Both of you
are to look at each other with a critical eye, not a
lustful one.
If both of you wish to continue, want to know each
other better, and start the 'courtship' phase, then
the two of you can arrange to meet, in the presence of
one of her relatives to talk and spend time together
for the purpose of getting to know each other better,
but it will always be chaperoned.
If the two of you are seriously considering a possible
marriage, you both should seek Allah, peace be upon
Him, for help, guidance and peace before proceeding,
this is done by praying a prayer for guidance. It is
called the salat-l-istikhara. I will send the text of
it to you. Then, if both agree, they pursue the final
steps toward marriage.
I believe I've given you enough direction as to how to
proceed -- either way, for the immediate future. If and
when the time comes, we can meet again and discuss the
procedures for Nikah, or the actual marriage contract
and ceremony. Go in peace, and all praise and honor be
to Allah, the Knower of all unknown, be your strength
and guidance. Assalamu aliakom."
"Thank you, Imam, for your time and guidance. Wa
aliakum asslalm." With that, we parted and I made my
way home, contemplating all that had transpired these
past seven days.
Both of my parents must have been anxiously awaiting
my return. They were sitting in the study, stating
that they'd held dinner until I got home. With that
said, we headed to the dining room to eat.
Dinner began uncomfortably quiet, but again, it was my
father that broke the silence.
"Well? Are you going to say something, or do we have
to pull it out of you?"
Mom looked at Dad, and then placing her hand on his,
she said, "John, calm down. He'll speak when he's
ready. I think we already have an idea what he's going
to say anyway."
"Mom, Dad, I'd like to discuss this in more detail
after dinner, but I've decided to meet with Adib and
meet Sarah."
My mother, trying to relieve some of the tension said,
"There now, it's all out in the open. Now can we have
a nice, friendly family meal?"
My father didn't look so accepting. With a cryptic
look on his face as if contemplating for a moment,
slightly nodded, smiled and said, "Sure."
After a somewhat more relaxed dinner, thanks to Mom
(the perpetual mediator), babbling on about her
delving into Indian and Muslim culture. She said that
she had needed to learn more about her son's faith and
new lifestyle.
After dinner, Dad asked the maid to serve coffee in
the study, where we then proceeded. Dad sat behind his
desk, Mom on the couch, and I sat in an armchair,
turning it so I was semi-facing them both.
I sat for a moment collecting my thoughts, then began...
"Dad, I know you somehow feel responsible for all of
this, and you're obviously concerned: both about
meeting with Adib, and with his daughter. First of
all, it's not the end of the world. Second, I know you
feel a little 'betrayed?' by your friend -- is that the
right word? Anyway, I've prayed about it, thought
about it, sought the advice of the Imam, and I feel a
strange calmness about the whole thing. I'm not
shocked, frightened, or put off by any of it.
Without trying to sound too religious or pious about
things, only God knows what the future holds: for me,
my family, my future, and also for Adib and HIS
family. I do know that I haven't had any heartfelt
feeling that this is a bad thing: either religiously
or personally, to do. Try to put yourself in Adib's
shoes. If you felt something or some action on your
part was in my or our family's best interest, you'd
probably do the same thing: no matter how strange it
may seem to anyone else. Right? So try not to be too
hard on your friend."
I went on to retell of my meeting with the Imam, and
without repeating word for word, told them that the
Imam said that it was a plea on Adib's part to meet
with Sarah for the consideration of possible marriage.
I also told my parents that simply meeting for the
first time is only the first step, and that many of
these introductions don't go any further, and that
both the man and woman must agree to all the steps
along the way.
My mother looked at Dad, then at me, then back at Dad.
I guessed that she was chomping at the bit to say
something, but was deferring to my father to make the
first comment.
Dad, rocked back in his chair, and began. "I've given
this a lot of thought, and there are a lot of 'what
ifs' about the whole thing. For example, 'what if'
she's a minor? What's her age? They marry girls -- even
children here. Their customs are not ours. They view
these things differently. 'What if' she's still in
school? Do you want to get involved with a schoolgirl?
Would a marriage like this be recognized as legal back
in the States? 'What if' she being coerced in some way
to get married? 'What if' you and this girl 'hit it
off' and decided to... what do you call it -- court.
How's this going to affect the real reason why you're
here: namely, to run a company... or have you forgotten
that?"
"Whoa, dad, slow down, you're starting to
hyperventilate! Let's take things one at a time. You
seem to forget that even though I'm a college graduate
with a PhD, I'm still only 18 years old. If she's say,
16 or 17, that's still an acceptable age range for
dating and marriage in the US. If she's younger, I'm
not sure what US law is regarding such marriages, but
I do know that the US government usually recognizes a
legal marriage made in a foreign country by an
American as being legal.
As to her being a schoolgirl, if she IS 16 or 17, she
will still be in school, as would probably an older
girl because she'd be attending college. College
students marry all the time."
Now for the shock part... I went on to explain what the
Imam had revealed to me regarding Islamic
interpretation of legal age and requirements, the
conditions of 'a mature ability toward sensible
conduct' towards marriage by both parties, and how
that might apply to a very young girl. Finally, about
the need for the girl's consent for a valid marriage
contract. Also, that these marriages were recognized
as legal in Indian secular law. Once I finished these
revelations, I waited for the hammer to drop...
All I saw were open mouths, and silence.
Mom spoke first. "What if this girl is 8 or 9? What
will you do then? What if she's 11 or 12?"
I looked at both of them and said, "Having those
examples to deal with, not having yet met the girl,
I'd decline an introduction. I cannot imagine a
scenario where I'd pursue a girl of that age: and it
makes me shudder to think of a child of 8 in any
intimate context. If she were, say, 11 or 12, she'd
have to be my equal, in the sense of being very
mentally and emotionally advanced in education,
interaction with older peers, and a history of
demonstrated ability to adapt in an adult environment.
I'm using myself as a gauge: does that make any sense?
If I am, at 18, considered in the eyes of older peers--
you, Dad, being one, is old enough to run a company,
then there are certainly young women who have the same
abilities as I: don't you both agree?"
Not waiting for an answer, I continued, "Look, let's
put this age issue to rest for our purposes: if Sarah
is below the age of 16, which is only 2 years my
junior, I will not proceed with an introduction as
Adib has requested. Having said that, she'd still have
to demonstrate maturity beyond 16 in order for us to
be compatible anyway. I see no problem meeting him or
his family in a purely social setting such as a dinner
or a public function. Does that alleviate your fears?"
Dad then spoke up. "OK, son. I agree with what you
said about the age issue. I guess everything will now
hinge on what Adib has to say about his daughter."
Mom kinda lowered her head and mumbled something that
dad and I could make out, and dad asked, "What is it
you have to say: get it all out now, or you give up
the right to bitch about it later. Come on, out with
it!"
Mom looked at the ceiling, as if for inspiration, then
looking at each of us in turn began: "Not all of my
'excursions,' as you call them, John, have been
cultural. Because I was an educator, and Sean's
teacher, I have also been observing their educational
system here also. One fact stands out, and that is,
there are an awful lot of kids, boys AND girls, that
are like Sean: pure geniuses. A lot of these kids put
ours to shame!
I was just remembering this, and thinking, that
meeting a girl such as Sean describes is within the
real realm of possibility here. What if, by the will
of God, or Allah, or whatever Higher Power that's
controlling our lives, were to put Sean in such a
position. I mean, with the right girl, say 11 or 12,
at the right time, and their hearts connect: what
then? Do we dismiss those same qualities that we hold
so special in Sean simply because she's a girl?" Her
voice was slowly gaining volume and force while she
continued her diatribe, "Were we right in our duties
as parents to allow Sean to grow up, assume
responsibility for his actions and decisions at such
an early age? And what now? He's 18 and going to run a
company! Your company! Is he more responsible because
he's YOUR son?" Having finished, she relaxed and sat
back putting her hands in her lap.
With that, I looked at Dad, who was chewing the inside
of his cheek, and back at Mom, who had an imploring
look on her face waiting for his response. I wanted to
hear what Dad's answer to that would be, and I wasn't
about to put MY two cents in ... not just yet.
He looked at Mom, and slightly turned his head as if
to work out a kink, then replied softly, "When the
hell did you become an advocate of child marriage?
Laying the love issue aside, there are real legal
ramifications to consider here! What if the US doesn't
recognize such a marriage: could he be prosecuted in
the US? These questions will need answers if this kind
of scenario comes to light. Legalese aside, what you
say is true about recognizing the same qualities in
someone other than Sean, but I have to say, she'd have
to be pretty damn special for me to go along, or even
consider it!"
I guessed it was time for me to put in my 'two cents'
worth, so a said calmly, "I agree with you Mom, in
that, although you and Dad are Baptist, and I'm
Muslim, we all agree that God's will for us is unknown
to us except the day we're living in. Yes, anything
under the sun is possible, though not very probable. I
don't know what God has in store for me, I just trust
in my faith: isn't that what you've both taught me? I
believe we've covered the 'what ifs,' pretty well, but
the purpose of this discussion, I believe, has come
full circle. As I said at dinner, I've decided to meet
with Adib, and discuss Sarah, and I'll try to get as
much information about her as I feel is necessary to
make a decision. There's one guideline we all agree
on, and that's if she's under 16, the deal's off.
Agreed?"
Mom said, "Agreed."
Dad's reply was "Amen to that."
I then looked at Dad and said, "Now for the next step:
give Mr. Haaseem a call, and set up some time to meet.
I'd appreciate it if you'd to be there also."
"I wouldn't miss this for the world!"
"OK Dad, make the call." With that, Mom and I both
rose, and started to leave the room. When we reached
the doorway of the study, I turned to close the door,
and I could hear my Dad say, "Hello Adib? Yes, it's
me, John..."
Continued in chapter 4...
<3rd attachment end>
<4th attachment, "Child_Brides_of_India_4.txt" begin>
Child Brides of India Ch 4
By C. Stanton Leman
Chapter 4: Meeting Adib (slow, no sex)
Last night, after my meeting with the Imam at the Jama
Masjiid mosque, and a heated discussion after dinner
with my parents, my Dad called Adib Haaseem to arrange
the long debated and awaited meeting between Mr.
Haaseem, my father and I to discuss the
'introduction,' as it was now called, between Adib's
daughter, Sarah and I.
Because the 'Sabbath,' for lack of a better word, for
Muslims is Friday, we agreed to meet Saturday morning
at 10am here, at our home in Dad's study. He did
request that my mother not be present, because these
matters were customarily handled between men. My mom
was a little insulted, but acquiesced, deferring to
Islamic tradition.
Dad said that Mr. Haaseem was elated, praised Allah
for answering his prayers, would pray for a cordial
'meeting of the minds,' and would see us promptly at
ten on Saturday. This gave us a full day's respite
tomorrow which my mother proclaimed as a 'mother/son
day' to begin after morning prayers and breakfast. My
father said that was fine, he had business matters to
attend to anyway.
It was the middle of June, and the weather was warm
and humid. New Delhi, like many other ancient Asian
cities, has the juxtaposition of ancient and modern
architecture in close proximity. It is, in a lot of
places, dirty, dusty and filled with throngs of people
going about their daily lives. We started out our day
by seeing a couple of Hindu temples, had a pleasant
lunch at a sidewalk café, and visited a few shopping
bazaars.
While we were walking in a local park, my mother got
quiet all of a sudden. We stopped to sit for a moment,
and she looked at me and smiled. She placed her palm
to the side of my cheek and said, "I fear I'm going to
loose you to this strange and mysterious land...
You know... you're my single most precious contribution
to this world. You, my son, are my greatest
accomplishment in life!
I know that your father helped mold you, along with
your incredible mind and education, but I gave you
life. You are of my flesh. I can sometimes actually
feel what you think and feel. I know you better than
anyone, and I'll always be there for you: always.
I feel something is going to happen to change our
lives forever. I don't know what, but for some strange
reason, I strangely feel a calm about it. Maybe it's
silly women's intuition gone awry, I don't know... just
a feeling is all." With that, she wiped a tear from
her cheek, composed herself and looked at me with a
smile.
Softly wiping away an errant tear from her cheek with
my finger, I said lovingly, "Mom? I don't know what to
say, except that I love you. With all the outward
appearances of a confident brainiac, I have
insecurities that I couldn't have dealt with if it
hadn't been for your understanding and support. No
matter what happens here, or anywhere else in the
world, I know you will always be there for me and I
for you, if I can. I love you mother, I deeply, deeply
love you."
On the way home, our conversation in the park wasn't
mentioned again as talk returned to the exotic sites,
sounds and surroundings.
Upon arriving home, I showered and prayed my evening
prayers with all the special supplications for the
events to follow. I went to the study, where mom and
dad were watching a movie, told them I wanted to
retire early, and went to bed.
Restless, I laid awake thinking of Sarah, and what she
must be going through. At 18, I have a lot of
insecurities when it comes to meeting women, and she's
undoubtedly feeling the same, if not more. I then
decided to ask Adib for a 'variance' in the actual
method of our introduction, if there was one. I would
suggest that instead of the two of us going off to a
corner of the room, within earshot of all present,
that we take a more informal, less stressful approach
and work the verbal 'feeling each other out' into the
normal, casual conversation normally encountered in a
social setting. In this way, I could gauge her
demeanor and carriage in an adult environment, along
with social and verbal skill. It might also alleviate
some of her tension and stress level--it wouldn't hurt
mine either.
After my morning ablutions and prayers, I donned a
business suit, and then went downstairs to awaiting
parents for breakfast. Dad, being more nervous than
either my mom or I, was rambling on about staying
calm, keeping your cool, not making rash decisions
under emotional stress, and on, and on... My mom finally
said "John. Shut the hell up and eat your breakfast!"
Shortly before ten, I asked my father to let me take
the lead and do most of the talking. I continued by
saying that he could sit back, watch the dynamic and
critique me later. This initial interaction would have
a direct bearing on what tone our future working
relationship might take on, and he agreed.
Mr. Haaseem arrived promptly at ten, ringing the
doorbell. I walked behind my father to the door to
formally greet the man I'd met for the first time over
a year ago in Washington, D. C.
We exchanged greetings, handshakes, and all the other
pleasantries of etiquette, and then proceeded to the
study. Dad asked Pita, our maid, to bring a pot of
tea.
Mr. Haaseem was as I remembered him. He had a
wheatish, ruddy complexion, not too tall: maybe 5'
10", and carried a little weight on him with a slight
stomach, probably about 190 pounds. Slightly balding,
he had black, wavy hair that was starting to grey at
the temples. He was personable with a warm, friendly
smile that came easily.
Standing next to him, in contrast, my father stands 6'
4" tall, an average Caucasian complexion, medium brown
hair speckled with grey throughout, and maybe 220
pounds with a solid - not heavy, but solid frame.
We sat, dad on one end of the sofa, Adib on the other
end, with me in an armchair between and facing the
two. My father broke the awkward silence of waiting to
see who'd begin by saying, "Well Adib, here we are:
you, me and Sean, just as you requested. Before we go
any further, I make one request of you, my friend, be
completely open, honest and forthright in this matter--
just like we do in business. I know this is, using
your own words, 'a matter close to your heart,' but I
feel the time for subtlety is over. Let's discuss this
with open hearts, open minds, and open communication.
Don't you agree?"
"Yes, John," Adib began, "I agree. I first must
apologize for the way I approached the matter. I was
thinking more about our custom, and not properly
considering your customs in these matters. I should
have approached you in a more understanding way, and
again, I apologize.
We have been friends a long time, and regardless of
the outcome this morning, we, I hope will continue to
be good friends. Sean, you are new to my country and
the business, and my feelings toward you are the same
as toward your father. I have great respect and
admiration for you, otherwise I wouldn't have even
considered making such a request of you."
I began, "Mr. Haaseem--"
He cut quickly cut me off saying "Adib. Call me Adib."
"Adib," I began again, " just so there's no
misunderstanding culturally or otherwise, please tell
me exactly why you want me to meet Sarah, and what do
you hope will come of our meeting?"
"Again Sean, I apologize for abruptly raising the
issue, but in all openness, I would hope that your
meeting Sarah might lead to a courtship and possibly
marriage."
"Good!" My Dad said. "Now it's truly out in the open."
I started again, "I think I have a pretty good sense
as to why you may feel that I might, in some way, be a
compatible spouse for your daughter, since you've had
the advantage of 'following my progress.' Anyway, I
have no such knowledge of Sarah, and I feel that
today's discussion is for me to basically get a sense
for who Sarah is. Am I correct in saying so?"
"Yes, it is."
"Before I proceed, if I make a mistake, or offend you
in any way, please forgive me. Even though I've met
with an Imam for instruction and guidance on these
procedures, if I err, it is unintentional."
"I'm sure you'll be guided by Allah's wisdom, peace be
upon Him," Adib replied.
"Let's just talk generally about Sarah. How old is
she, and if she's still in school, what grade is she
in?"
"Sarah is 16, She's an advanced student, she will
finish high school this year." With that, I glanced at
my father, and I could see a sigh of relief on his
face.
"So, what little I know of the Indian grade structure,
that means she's about 2 years advanced academically?"
"Yes, that's right."
"What I'd like for you to do now, is simply talk about
your daughter as if your talking to a new friend, and
being the proud parent, explaining how you feel about
her and the qualities she has that make you so proud
of her. If I want to ask a question, I'll jump in.
That way our time together won't seem so much like a
question/answer session similar to a police
interrogation. By doing things this way, I feel that
we're treating Sarah with more respect, and not so
much like something to be 'negotiated.' Don't you
agree?"
"You are most kind, and I thank you for thinking of
her so graciously. Now, where to begin?"
"Just talk about Sarah."
"Well... Sarah is my first born of two daughters. She's
16, had a good mind and is an excellent student that
gets high marks at school, is 2 years advanced in her
studies, and she will graduate this year from
secondary high school. She's about 5' 6" tall with
dark brown, shoulder length hair, warm, friendly brown
eyes. Although she is of a... fuller figure, she's not
what you would call heavy: maybe, how do you say it,
athletic perhaps?
Sarah is close to all in her family, does her chores
and helps her mother willingly and without complaint
She's a good natured, quiet girl who is pious, humble,
and chaste. She has not been allowed to 'date,' as you
call it, but has several girl friends. As you may well
know, being younger than her classmates, she is
somewhat shy. This is one of the reasons I have
considered you because you are acquainted with such
feelings."
With that, I motioned that I wanted to ask a question.
"How well does Sarah interact with her older, fellow
students and adults? Does she accompany you and your
wife to adult social functions, such as the one where
you and I first met?"
Adib replied, "As I said, she is somewhat shy, but
adapts and makes an attempt to fit into her
surroundings, and yes, she has accompanied my wife and
I to several functions."
"And how does she fit in at these types of functions,
and more immediately, how comfortable with a situation
like the one we're here to discuss?"
"She is somewhat... reserved. By that I mean, she
sometimes finds it awkward to inject herself in
conversation. Let me say in all honestly, that this
may very well be a result of our faith, which
encourages a women to defer to males, other adults
unknowingly overlooking her because of her age, and
unfortunately, here in India, women are usually more
passive in conversation: especially when men are
present. To be specific about the two of you meeting,
my guess, as her father, would be that she's a little
apprehensive. Not because of being around adults, it's
just that she understands that this will be the first
time she actually will be having one-on-one
conversation with a male, and possibly discussing
matters that reveal more of a personal side of
herself."
"I see. Do you know her feelings about meeting a
possible spouse? By that I mean, has she prayed about
this? Is she ready, do you feel, for this, or is it a
situation where she is following your advice because
you feel I'm the right person at the right time in her
life, and by custom, the parents are usually the ones
to take the lead in these matters?"
'Yes, she has prayed: both in solitude and with my
wife concerning this matter. As with all parents who
have discussions with their children of matters that
are of an intimate manner, Salima, my wife, has
lovingly explained the reasons and process every
Muslim girl goes through to become acquainted with and
joined to a man for lifelong marriage. Sarah is also
aware that, with her entering the concluding years of
her education, it is time for her to consider these
matters in her life."
Adib paused, as if waiting for my comment. I then
leaned forward in my chair a little with my hands
clasped together and said, "I'd like to ask you a few
final questions, and then, possibly a few observations
and comments and I'd like you to be painfully honest.
OK?"
Looking me straight in the eyes, he replied, "I will
do my best."
"Alright then." I began again, "If you were to go home
today, and tell Sarah that I didn't wish to proceed
with a meeting for the purpose of a possible marriage,
how do you think she'll feel? What do you anticipate
her reaction to be?"
"You are candidly asking me to reveal her weaknesses
aren't you"
He knew what I was asking. How will she deal with an
adult topic, for the first time concerning a man; with
the adult reality of life that comes with rejection?
My thoughts genuinely turned to Sarah. I vowed to be
kind and respectful of Sarah, regardless of what I
wanted to know, so I replied, "Believe it or not, I am
thinking of her mental and emotional welfare. I THINK
I may understand what she might feel, this being her
first experience with the process of courtship and
marriage, but I'd like to hear it from one who knows
her heart."
With this, Adib eased a little in his chair and said,
"You are a kind and gracious man, and my respect and
admiration of you is increased ten-fold. To answer you
frankly, I believe that a rejection today would be
harder for her to bear. I say this because Sarah might
feel that she hasn't been given the opportunity for
you to really see her as a person, and then, having
had a glimpse of one another, deciding that it was not
in Allah's will, peace be upon Him, for any further
relationship."
"Adib, I thank you for your candor. I feel I have
enough information to make some decisions. Before you
jump to any conclusions, let me finish what I have to
say, alright?"
"Yes, I understand."
"Let me begin by saying, that unfortunately, I do not
believe that Sarah and I would make a very compatible
couple, and here's why. Although Sarah is two years
advanced in school, we are nowhere close to being
academically compatible. Being only two years younger
than her peers, this should not, in my experience,
pose any real alienation from them. In America, boys
and girls of this age range are more than capable of
meeting as relative equals both academically and
socially. The insecurity she is experiencing may
simply be she lacks the confidence to inject herself
to demonstrate her equality with them.
As for dealing with adults, you are aware that a
person, regardless of age, has to WANT to participate
in social interaction if they are to be acknowledged
and included. Since I will be taking over my father's
assets here in India, I will need a spouse who can
show a maturity--regardless of her age--to stand on her
own in these adult social settings and contribute to
her husband's endeavors.
Having said that, I vowed to myself, and made a
promise to Allah, peace be upon Him, that I would
genuinely look upon Sarah as a person, and treat her
with the dignity and respect one should give a woman
of faith.
In keeping with these promises, I will agree to your
family's introduction of Sarah and I for a couple of
reasons. First, I truly believe that you feel Allah,
peace be upon Him, has moved your heart to be where
we, meaning your family and mine and specifically
Sarah and I, are at this point in time. For that
reason, Sarah may feel this way also, I don't know if
she feels Allah, praise be to Him, has led her heart
in this direction also. If she feels so moved, she
may, at our meeting, with God's help, exhibit a
strength, maturity and decisiveness that she hasn't
before displayed. Who can know the will of Allah,
peace be upon Him? Finally, I'll treat Sarah as a
person, with respect and not dismiss her as we would a
business proposition that should be shelved. With that
said, unless we, meaning you, your wife, my parents
and I can see the movement of God's hand in all of
this, there will, in my opinion, be no courtship or
marriage. Does this seem fair and reasonable to you?"
"Again, Sean, My heart soars with admiration and
respect for you in this matter. You have clearly shown
a maturity and sensitivity beyond your years. You have
endeared a lifelong friend in me."
I smiled and looking at my father, who up to this
point had surprisingly kept absolutely quiet, smiled
also. I know what he was thinking: a win/win for
everybody.
To finish up, I again began. "Now that we've agreed to
an introduction, I have a favor to ask of you, dear
friend."
Adib smiling, said, "If it's in my power to grant,
anything."
"To make things less stressful, especially with both
families looking on, I'd like to request that, instead
of Sarah and I going off to a corner of the room
within earshot of everyone, that we get to know one
another more casually in the mood befitting a dinner
between families. This can best be determined by our
initial conversation before dinner, If she's too
nervous about a one-on-one situation, we can use the
informal approach. Questions and answers can be easily
carried on by normal conversation before, during and
after dinner. This might help keep Sarah from feeling
self-conscious and less intimidated in the presence of
a man. What do you think of the idea, or is it too...
breaking with tradition?"
"You have given my daughter great respect with your
thoughtful kindness. I agree, I think it best as you
have suggested."
"Fine." I said, standing up and extending my hand to
close our meeting, "Now with that out of the way, when
do we meet each other's family for dinner?"
Sarah, with me and my family are at your convenience."
I looked at Dad inquiringly, and he said, "I can't
wait to finally meet your family! How about tomorrow
evening? Say, seven o'clock?"
Adib, shaking my father's hand said, "Seven it is!"
Making our way out of the study to see Adib out, we
praised Allah and made our obligatory farewells.
When Adib had left, we proceeded to the kitchen for
lunch, and I turned to Dad and said, "Well?"
He smiled and said, "Considering the subject matter
under discussion, I couldn't have done better myself.
In fact, I could never have anticipated or even
planned that outcome. I'm very proud of you son: very
proud.
Now, let's get some lunch and fill your mother in on
the details: she has a dinner to plan."
Over lunch, I filled Mom in on the details of our
meeting with Adib. She took everything I'd said rather
calmly, and praised me for my concern for Sarah's
feelings. But about the resulting dinner that we had
set for tomorrow evening, my mother jokingly said she
was going to punish both of us for such an impromptu
gathering. She said that we had 'volunteered our great
organizational skills' to help organize everything so
that we all, at least, had time to dress and get
ready.
After lunch, Mom quickly made a list of the necessary
items needed for the dinner, then began barking out
orders and handing out assignments like an assembly
line foreman. She was used to performing this task
considering the many times she'd had to entertain my
father's prospective and current clients. And so it
was, each of us off to do the 'master's' bidding.
Continued in Chapter 5...
<4th attachment end>
<5th attachment, "Child_Brides_of_India_5.txt" begin>
Child Brides of India Ch 5
By C. Stanton Leman
Chapter 5: Introductions and Dinner (Mg, rom, no sex)
Under Mom's calm but firm direction, everything for
dinner was fished by five pm. The extra maid, chef and
waiter were assigned the job of completing the meal
preparations as we all went our separate ways to begin
to get ready. After completing my bathroom ritual, I
said my evening prayers, and again, fervently asked
for guidance and help to see Allah's will in all of
this. After finishing my prayers, I began to get
dressed. I chose a navy blue pin striped suit with a
pale blue shirt and matching tie, then headed
downstairs to give any last minute help Mom might
need.
I found Mom in the kitchen, giving last minute
instructions to the staff. I stood in the doorway of
the kitchen, and simply gazed upon my mother. She had
decided to dress the culture. She had on a turquoise
colored hand painted sari with gold trim. Underneath,
she wore a dark blue petticoat and long choli. Her
hair was put up, using the remainder of the pallu as a
headscarf. For the first time as a man, I looked at
her as a woman. She seemed oblivious to my presence,
busy with details, but I looked at her with deep,
loving emotion. She stands about 5' 9", with medium
blonde hair like mine. She has light blue eyes and an
easy, friendly smile. As I looked at her, I noticed
that at 42, except for the usual fullness that comes
with age, she had a very nice figure and ample
breasts. When I looked at her face, I saw that her age
had given her a noble, patrician beauty that one would
admire in a mature woman. I was broken from my trance
when she finally noticed me, stopped and smiled.
Walking over and straightening my tie, she said, "Dad
will be down in a minute, he had to wait on me to
finish primping. Well, how do I look?"
"Lovely, simply lovely. I love you Mom," I said.
"Well, lover boy, you ready for your date?"
"Mom," I said, "Why is this all so funny?"
"I think it's kinda cute that a 16 year old girl will
have her first 'date' with my manly son who appears
just a tad bit nervous himself! Besides, why be so
serious? You've already decided she's not your cup of
tea, so relax and enjoy the conversation, company and
this nice dinner your mother slaved over, huh?'
"You're right Mom, you're always right."
"Yeah? Well tell your father that! We'd better head to
the living room, it's almost time."
With that, we walked arm in arm towards the living
room, as Mom yelled upstairs, "John, its almost time."
"Just a minute honey, I'll be right down," was his
distant reply.
With all three of us standing in the living room, my
dad looked out the window, and said, "They're here,
lets move to the foyer."
The foyer is rather small for receiving more than two,
maybe three people at most, so we all stood in kind of
a curved line on the left hand side in the hall, where
the foyer empties into the hallway. We stood with my
mother closest to the wall, me in the middle and my
father to my right. The doorbell rang, and I took a
deep breath. My mother squeezed my hand as Dad moved
to the door.
My father answered the door, greeting Adib with a
handshake, motioning him inside. Adib entered and
stepped towards me with outstretched hand. Because of
the restricting width of the foyer and his size, I
could only get a glimpse of the rest of his family,
but all the women appeared to have their heads
covered.
I took his hand, shaking it and said, "Assalamu
aliakom."
He replied, "Wa aliakum asslalm."
I thought he was going to stand and introduce his
family, but my father, either out of nervousness, or
simply having a brain fart, wrapped his arm around
Adib's shoulder and led him to the veranda, speaking
lightheartedly to him as they moved.
Then I saw Salima for the first time. It appeared that
Sarah was behind her, followed by the younger
daughter.
Salima was, to my surprise, a very beautiful woman for
having had two children, which might put her, I guess
to be about 38. She is very short, standing only about
five feet tall, and petite with a slender build, dark
olive complexion, with friendly brown eyes, and medium
length black hair. She had high, somewhat smallish
breasts proportional for her frame.
With my hands folded in front of me, I bowed slightly
and greeted her by saying, "Assalamu aliakom. I'm
Sean, and this is my mother Joan. You must be Salima,
I'm very pleased to meet you."
My mother smiled and said, "Hi, I'm Joan, it's a
pleasure to finally meet you and your daughters,
Salima"
Salima replied, "Wa aliakum asslalm. I too have been
looking forward to meeting both of you. Please, let me
introduce my daughters." With that, she gently
motioned for Sarah to step forward. "This is my eldest
daughter Sarah. Sean, Sarah. Sarah, Mrs. Michaels."
With my hands folded in front of me, I slightly bowed,
and greeted her by saying, "Assalamu aliakom. It's a
pleasure to meet you." My mom then took her hand and
greeted her.
Sarah, to my surprise, was prettier than the picture
her father had painted of her. Her height, weight and
complexion seemed accurate, at 5' 6'' and about 120-
130 pounds, but she didn't look 'full' to me. She had
an average frame for an athletic girl, showed no signs
of fat, and had a nice figure with ample sized
breasts. Although she had respectfully bowed her head
slightly, she had a cute face. She looked up at me
briefly, smiled a pretty smile, which she shyly
covered with her hand and blushingly said to me, "Wa
aliakum asslalm. It's a pleasure to meet you and for
you to invite us into your home."
My mother said, "Sarah, it's our pleasure to have you
here, and your comment was very sweet." My mother
stepped towards her, taking her arm, led her a little
ways into the hall to make room for the last of the
introductions.
Motioning her forward, Salima said, "and this is our
youngest daughter, Priya."
Again, with my hands folded, I slightly bowed, and
greeted her by saying, "Assalamu---------"
Everything within me instantly exploded! It felt like
a white-hot spear had pierced both of us at the same
time, right to our cores. I gasped "Oh!" I know she
did also because I could hear it above my own, Salima
also had to have heard it. Seen it. Did mom? Or Sarah?
As she slowly came into view and as I bowed to greet
her, our eyes met: and I cannot describe what is
beyond words to explain, but I was looking directly
into the most innocently beautiful, dark, and
sensuously captivating large black eyes.
The windows to her soul, like pools of molten
obsidian: so deep, dark and mysterious... slowly pulling
me into the soul I instantly knew I would someday be
mated to. I so desperately wanted to slip inside and
wrap myself in their warmth forever.
Although our glance lasted but only for a few, brief
seconds, time seemed to stand still. When this
seemingly endless gaze ended, she slowly began to
smile. As her lips parted and widened, her smile
seemed to light up her face. "Oh, to have that smile
in my life every day," I thought. Her color darkened
ever so slightly as she raised her hand to cover her
mouth. I noticed her tiny hand, her slender fingers
and nails, and the pink of her palm...
My 6' frame towered over her like Gulliver and the
Lilliputians. She was a young - very young pixie of a
girl at about 4'9 or 10, about 80 to 90 pounds with a
pubescent figure. She had a very slender- not skinny-
build with the slightest outline of a curve to her
hips, but from the front, I didn't notice any swelling
of a breast. Her shiny blue-black hair was pulled back
over her tiny ears. She had skin the color of light
milk chocolate that was absolutely and perfectly
flawless.
This entire sequence occurred in a matter of seconds.
She then gracefully covered my incomplete greeting by
saying, "Wa aliakum asslalm. I am very pleased to meet
you, and you also Mrs. Michaels."
As she passed by me to step into the hallway, I could
see her light blue covered torso through the fine,
white pallu, and then got a glimpse of a hint of her
right breast, which appeared to be about the size of a
small apricot, and through the scarf, her long, waist
length black hair was set in a French braid.
I was momentarily stunned, embarrassed, confused... I
was lost in another world! I regained my composure as
quickly and as best I could, and looked at Salima. I
was expecting to see anger, rage, disgust, but
instead, she gave me a Mona Lisa-like smile.
Mom broke the gaze by saying, "Please, let's join the
others on the veranda for refreshments and tea."
For the first time in my life, I felt as if I was
ready to emotionally break down: I had never
experienced such a strong feeling of a lack of
control. I quickly composed myself to continue what
was, apparently, going to be an arduous night. Me?
What about Sarah? Oh God above, what's come over me"
Needing an additional moment to recover completely, as
graciously and innocently as I could, I said, "Let me
check on the refreshments." As I turned to go to the
kitchen, I saw Salima pull up Priya, who was by mom's
side, to speak to her. I didn't see Sarah, so I
assumed she continued on to join our fathers. I
stepped through the kitchen door and leaned against
the wall with my head down.
I shook my head, and mockingly said to myself, "Hummf!
The ever-in control super whiz kid! God truly is the
great equalizer!"
Just then, my mother walked through the door. She
smiled and laying her hand on my cheek said, "Loose
something out there, super kid? Maybe your heart?" She
paused for a moment and finished. "Perhaps I should
ask Priya if she's seen it," then gave an attempted
tension-breaking chuckle.
I turned to look her, and with an unpleasant gaze,
looked her in the eye, saying nothing.
She then said, "Look, you asked and prayed for Allah,
peace be upon Him, to show you His will. Well, He did.
Now, what are you going to do about it?"
I said, "What, are you turning Muslim?"
She said, "No, I'm showing respect for your faith, and
I expect you to follow it! Listen to me. Allah,
Christ, Jehovah, Shiva, Buddha or whoever the hell is
on duty tonight, has knocked you on your ass and given
your heart to an eleven year-old girl, and hers to
you. Yes, she's eleven-and-a half years old! Now... pick
yourself up by the bootstraps and play the hand that's
been dealt you. If this is truly meant to be, we'll
work out the details later. Everyone is beginning to
wonder where we are, so follow your heart, trust in
your faith, and let's get going!" With that, we both
picked up a tray of drinks and headed out the door to
the veranda.
Upon entering the veranda, we found everyone was
standing together in light conversation. Mom and I
finished serving drinks all around, then we began to
split up into groups: my dad and Adib, then mom,
Salima and Priya, which finally left Sarah and I to
begin our one-on-one conversation.
Feeling the age-old insecurities around women
resurface, there were shy glances and smiles (covered
by a hand on her part) for a few moments, then I began
with, "So, it seems that this Muslim courtship thing
can be a little awkward, don't you think? It kinda
feels like we're in a fishbowl with all eyes on us:
even if, when you look around, it isn't really true,
doesn't it?"
She looked around, giggled and said, "Yes, I was
thinking the same thing. Excuse me if my English isn't
very good, I'm a little nervous, but this is the first
time I've been allowed to actually speak alone with a
boy -- I mean a man, outside of a group setting."
"Don't feel too self conscious about it, it's hard for
men and women to first meet, even when people around
them seem not to notice them."
She then said, "Thanks for understanding, I don't feel
so scared, now that we've begun to talk. Maybe my
English will be better. How do you like India?
I told her I very much liked what I've seen, which
hadn't been much, but I really did enjoy praying at
the Jama Masjiid mosque, and meeting with the Imam had
been very enlightening. Even some of the Hindu shrines
were very beautiful. As for the culture, I've learned
very little: only what I've obtained by observation.
She went on to explain a little about life in India,
and the surprising fact her that her family not only
spoke English, but also Tamil, Hindu and some Urdu.
She also talked about a few of the customs, and
general topics which she seemed more comfortable
talking about, but then she said to me, "I know you
and Papa have met, and he's already told you quite a
bit about me, but I don't really know much about you."
I replied, "Well, to put you mind at ease, actually
seeing and meeting you is much better than the girl
(did I just say girl? I should have said woman) I had
pictured in my mind: honestly. He didn't tell me that
all of you spoke 4 languages!"
Smiling, she said, "You're very kind, but India is a
country of many languages."
I continued to tell her my age, a little about my
interests, hobbies, my educational level, and why I
came to India. I didn't think it right to try and
describe my personality traits, since I wanted her to
make those judgments on her own. We had been talking
for about ten minutes, and I kept trying to discreetly
gaze at Priya as often as I felt comfortable with
doing so, when Mom announced that dinner was being
served in the dinning room.
We all proceeded into the house and on into the dining
room, where mom announced the seating arrangements.
Because of the unequal numbers in each family unit,
mom sat dad at one end of the table, with Adib at the
other. The side seating arrangements were a 3-2
setting with Salima sitting to Adib's right, then
Sarah, then Priya on the end, next to my dad. On the
other side, Mom had split the side into thirds, with
her sitting slightly away, but to the right of my
father with me to mom's right. This placed me in a
position as to be able to look almost directly across
at Sarah and her mother with Adib to my right.
Once seated and the first course being served, Mom,
being the gracious hostess, turned diagonally towards
Adib and Salima, and began the dinner conversation
with, "I am so very glad we have the opportunity to
finally meet each other as families. Although business
and friendship are important, families are what are
most important to all of us. I hope everyone enjoys
the meal."
Adib replied, "Mrs. Michaels, you are the consummate
hostess, and you have done it again with a fine
atmosphere and setting for our families to meet on
such a short notice, my hat is off to you."
Salima added, "Yes, I am impressed that even though on
short notice, you have been very sensitive to our
Muslim faith and culture. I find it enlightening to
meet westerners that look upon us in such friendship."
Mom said, "Well, Sean had a lot to do with that.
Loving our son as you do your girls, when Sean
converted to Islam, we have honestly tried to
understand his faith, even though some if its customs
and precepts are so different from our Baptist,
Christian faith."
Although Adib knew pretty much as to why I converted
to Islam from our initial meeting in Washington, and
he'd filled Salima in at some point in time, I'm sure,
for the benefit of the girls Salima asked me, "Sean,
why DID you convert to Islam?"
I explained that 9-11 had a lot to do with it. I had
several devout Muslim friends, and how they actually
wept, as did we, over the events, prayed for the
survivors, and for peace for those lost and their
families. I went on to explain how they enlightened me
that real Islam is a faith of peace, and the desire to
live a harmonious life with all of God's people. That
having different beliefs gave no one of any faith a
license or sanction to kill other human beings
indiscriminately.
I went on to explain that their discussions drove me
to start reading the Koran to learn more about the
teachings of Allah, and from there, I decided that
those teachings were a path I'd like to follow, and
so, I converted about two years ago.
I then tried to direct the conversation towards Sarah,
so I asked her, "Sarah, I understand you're several
years advanced at school: have you decided to go to
college, if so, what would you like to major in?"
She looked up, and around the table then replied, "I
think I'd like to go to medical school, and possibly
become a pediatrician. There are so many children here
in India that don't have basic medical care."
Dad finally spoke up saying, "That's a well thought
out and noble endeavor to undertake. I applaud you for
it. Would you like to go to medical school here or in
the US?"
"I haven't thought too much about it yet."
Mom, I guess, in an attempt to make this a double
'introduction,' first continued my father's praise by
saying, "It hurts all of us the most to see children
suffer," then asked Priya, "And what about you, Priya,
what are your educational plans?"
Priya looked up, wide-eyed and surprised, I guess
because she'd been called upon, recovered and looked
around the table at each of us and said, "I'd like to
enroll at the India Institute of Technology and get my
degree in computer engineering."
Dad exclaimed, "Bravo! A girl after my own heart!
You're thinking quite a bit ahead for still being in
middle school aren't you? What would you like to
specialize in?"
Sarah, I assumed, trying to deflect her insecurity of
being academically much slower than her sister, troed
to cover it with pride for her, offered the revealing
fact by looking at Dad saying, "Oh no, she's actually
in the eleventh grade, one below me."
After a few perked looks at Priya, both attempting to
deflect any embarrassment to Sarah by her sister's
revelation, and based on the response received from
Dad, she didn't miss a beat. She must have
instinctively found what button to push with Dad,
because she quickly interjected, "I'm not sure yet,
what types of services does your company engineer for
its clients?" With that, she coyly indirectly looked
over at me, then at Mom and definitely darkened
slightly (is that how a chocolate girl blushes?), and
then looked again to my father. I felt my face flush a
little also.
Jackpot! Dad then went into a ten-minute diatribe
about the services we engineer for all acumens of
engineering design and research, such as nano
technologies, robotics, medical R & D, and cutting
edge medical procedures.
Priya again glanced at me, gave me another 'chocolate
blush,' and returned to her plate. I looked at Sarah,
who quickly turned her sight to her plate taking a
bite of food, then to Adib, who had a shit-eating grin
on his face, and Salima, still with that same Mona
Lisa smile.
In a way, I felt ashamed. Ashamed at the fact that I
was supposed to be so mature and adept, ashamed
because I felt Sarah was being hurt: both by my
insecurity and what I was now feeling for Priya,
Priya's obvious superiority over Sarah-- and this
evening, over me. It was beginning to become obvious
to everyone who was 'stealing the show,' and what was
being said between the lines with body language and
gestures. I felt uncannily outclassed by my newfound,
11 year-old heartthrob.
I think Sarah sensed this in me, and deflected the
conversation back upon me by asking, "Sean, how do you
feel about taking over your father's company here in
India?"
I did indeed, now feel humble, and replied, "I'm
looking forward to the challenge, hoping to make some
changes for the better, especially for the employees,
and to working closely with your Father. Having been
here only a short while, I have found India to be
interesting, and very revealing."
Salima looked at me, and her smile changed from the
mysterious to one of coy acknowledgement and replied,
"Yes... India can be a sensuously mysterious land."
My mom, not hesitating a moment, put in with "Yes it
can. Indeed... it surely can."
Adib, momentarily caught off guard by the obvious
double entandre made by his wife then quickly said,
"I am looking forward to it also. In just the short
time you've been here, Sean, you have convinced me
that you are your father's son."
Dad nodded his appreciation to Adib from across the
table and said, "I really appreciate the compliment,
especially from a friend as close as you," and raised
his glass to him.
Salima spoke again in the direction of my mother
saying, "I also am very pleased that our husband's
friendship has now been increased to include both of
our families."
Mom, I guess, not to be outdone in the double entendre
department said, "And I'm sure our friendship will
become even closer over time."
The three males looked at the women, and I think we
were all of one mind in thinking "When did we loose
control?" The women, both young and old are the ones
directing this show!"
There is an observation in business management that
states: "He who speaks last in an exchange, leaves
with the power." My mom showed she was no slouch when
it came to exchanges, and not wanting Salima to rebut,
quickly followed her remark with, "Well, it looks like
we're all about finished with dinner. Dessert anyone?"
The men, desperately looking for a change of scenery,
quickly indicated full stomachs, and we all agreed to
adjourn.
Standing, Mom said, "Since no one is in the mood for a
heavy dessert, we'll serve tea and cakes in the living
room." With that, we all filed out to the living room.
Once in the living room, everyone was standing, more
or less in a loose crowd exchanging pleasantries about
how good the meal was, how nice an evening it had
turned out to be, then we drifted back into small
groups: again Dad and Adib, Mom, Salima and Priya, and
as if by some conspiracy,, Sarah and I.
Sarah was facing me with her back turned to the other
women, and the women were standing such that Priya had
her back to me, with Mom and Salina facing me. Dad and
Adib had retired to the study.
We were talking about what life was like in America in
comparison to India, when I noticed Priya again. I
tried to be discreet, but I had the repeated urge to
look at her, even if only her back. I was doing quite
well at glancing without Sarah's (apparent) knowledge,
and I saw that Priya had slipped her right foot from
her slipper. She had her foot curled back so that the
top front of her arch and toes were resting on the
carpet. For a quick moment (or so I thought), I stared
at her lovely foot. It was tiny like the rest of her.
Like her palms, the underside was a lovely shade of
pink. She had a little heel, with a slender arch that
was slightly wrinkled due to the curvature of her
foot. Her little toes all in a row against the carpet
like a string of tiny, round, pink pearls...
When I broke my gaze to look at my mom, both she and
Salima smiled at me, Priya, was unaware that she was
even being watched. I thought to myself, "Boy, you've
been a complete ass all night!"
We had been talking for about ten minutes, when Dad
and Adib returned to the living room. Sarah and I were
finishing our topic of discussion, when she said,
"Excuse me Sean, I'd like to speak to my father a
moment."
"Sure." I replied, and watched her take a few steps
toward her dad. I overheard her ask him, "Papa? May I
speak to Sean in the dining room for a minute? You can
see us from here, OK?"
He looked at me then asked her, "Is everything OK?
"Yes Papa, everything's fine. I'd just like to talk
privately for a moment. I'll explain in a few minutes,
OK?"
"OK Sarah, if everything is fine. Just sit where I can
see you."
"Yes Papa, I will. Thanks."
She turned and stepped towards me and said "Can we
speak quietly in the dining room for a moment?"
"Sure," I said, and we walked to the corner of the
table that was visible in Adib's view and sat: my back
to her father and her facing towards him.
She looked slightly embarrassed as she bowed her head,
and then slowly raised it as she began to speak.
"Please, don't say anything until I'm finished, will
you promise me?"
"Yes, I promise. What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong, Sean. In fact, everything is finally
right. For the first time in my life, I feel certain
that everything is right. I have been very nervous and
anxious about marriage, meeting you, whether I'd
measure up to the expectations of others: Papa, Momma,
Priya, and you and your family. I have fervently
prayed for Allah to quiet my heart and speak to me
about you, me, marriage, everything."
She sighed, took a breath and continued "And He has."
Then, a single tear dropped onto her cheek, which she
didn't wipe away. I assume that at that point, Adib
had seen her tears and started towards us because
Sarah raised her hand as if to motion him to stop. I
wanted so much to dry away that tear, but knowing it
was forbidden to touch, held back.
She continued... "You and I, and everyone present
tonight know that it's not Allah's will, peace be unto
Him, that we are meant to be."
I said, "I'm so sorry Sarah, the last thing I ever
wanted to do was to hurt you. I feel so terrible about
what you've been through tonight. It really breaks my
heart to see your tears, tears that I've caused---"
She cut me off by saying, "Oh no! You don't
understand. These aren't tears of sadness, they're
tears of joy! For the first time in my life, I've
heard and felt the will of God, and I feel an
incredible peace -- a peace I cannot understand. It
wasn't the will of Allah to come here tonight with my
family on my behalf, but for Priya's. It was so that
you and Priya would meet! Don't you see? You and she
are super smart, confident, so sure of who and what
you are. The two of you are a perfect match. From the
moment both of your eyes met, He ordained it!
I feel joy! Joy for Priya. Joy for you, and the joy of
feeling that I have been used by Allah to fulfill His
will! And I Have peace: a peace in knowing that Allah
is watching over me. It's not my time, it's Priya's.
Mine will surely come, and Allah will choose it for
me, just as He's done for Priya and for you.
Don't feel sad or sorry for me, I have been an
instrument of God. I will always remember this night
in my heart, and never doubt God's love for me. OK?
Let's return now, there's one last thing to do to
bring the will of Allah to fruition." With that, she
rose and smiled, and walking side by side, we entered
the living room."
While walking back, I couldn't help but remember my
words to Adib yesterday about Sarah, realizing how
prophetic they were. She had been moved by God and is
demonstrating a newfound maturity, grace and
conviction to act in such a decisive manner, but they
weren't to attract me, they were to bring the events
of the evening out into the open.
Once inside, folks were arranged in the room
differently. Mom sat on the far end of the couch,
Priya in the middle, with Salima on the near end. Dad
was sitting on the arm of the sofa, next to mom, and
Adib likewise next to Salima.
Sarah stepped up to face her father, and began, "Papa,
I know that you have sought the will of Allah in
searching for a pious and righteous husband for me,
and you did it out of love. You hoped to bring your
daughter here tonight as a potential bride, and you
have: but it wasn't me... it was Priya!
Oh papa! I have heard His almighty voice in my heart
and am filled with joy and peace. Joy for being His
instrument. Joy for Priya, and joy for Momma.
Just look at her Papa, look at Priya. See how she
shines? She's been given a heart, and surrendered her
own, can't you see that?" Looking around at all in the
room then continuing, "Can't you all see that? I am so
happy I could just dance! Everyone present has tried
all evening to avoid what is common knowledge, for my
sake. We have seen the hand of God! Can't all of you
see? We've all been part of a miracle! A miracle of
love: what greater gift can we hope for from our God?"
Adib, with tears in his eyes, lovingly enfolded his
daughter in his arms and wept. Salima held her face in
her hands sobbing. Priya, with tears on her cheeks,
looked me straight in the eye -- and never looked away.
I felt that she was looking for affirmation of the
love her sister openly extolled, and up to now was
openly unacknowledged. I looked at her with all that I
felt in my heart, gently smiled, and mouthed the words
"I love you." She gave me another chocolate blush, and
looked to her mother for affirmation and then to her
father.
Mom was sobbing as if Sarah war HER daughter. Dad
looked at me, then looked at Priya, and simply sighed
and shook his head.
When everyone seemed to be regaining control of
themselves, Salima went into a prayer of praise to
Allah:
"O Allah, you have heard the painful cries of a mother
for her child! You have sought to lift up my brown-
skinned daughter and carry her above all the
indignities and pain of her life! You have brought her
a love: a love that covers her shame! Praise and glory
be yours forever!"
Priya sat, with hands folded in her lap, and silently
cried as her mother's prayer brought back the memories
of society's indifference and indignity her complexion
had heaped upon her.
Things quieted down and Dad stood up and asked Adib,
"May I speak to your daughter directly?"
Adib replied, "Yes John, you may."
Dad looked at me and said, "Son, is this really what
your heart desires? Do you wish to seek Priya's hand
in marriage?"
"Yes Dad, I do."
He then turned to Adib and said, "Adib Haaseem, do you
agree for Sean to seek Priya's hand?"
"I do John, if that is her desire."
He lastly turned to Priya and said, "Priya, is it your
desire to begin a courtship with Sean?"
"With my father's consent, I desire nothing more."
Dad stepped back for a moment, then began to address
everyone by saying "First Adib, I suggest that you
take your family home, I'm sure you have a lot to
discuss, as do we. Because of Priya's age, there are
issues -- legal issues - to be addressed and dealt
with.
I suggest that we all meet here on Tuesday evening,
say about seven? After having time to discuss things
with our families separately, we can then decide how
we will proceed. Sean, Priya, this doesn't mean that
you two will be able to proceed toward a marriage, but
it doesn't prevent it either. We just need to be
absolutely positive and clear about any decisions we
make. Do we all agree?"
Everyone nodded and said, "Yes."
With that, everyone rose to get ready to part company
for the evening. After saying our praises to Allah and
the obligatory farewells, I stood at the door and
watched as they left. Priya, walking next to Salima,
turned and gently smiled before turning to get in the
car. I closed the door, quietly whispered to her and
myself, "I love you Priya," and then headed to the
living room, anticipating my father's uncontrolled
sentiments on how he REALLY felt.
Continued in Chapter 6...
<5th attachment end>
<6th attachment, "Child Brides of India 6.txt" begin>
Child Brides of India
By C. Stanton Leman
Chapter 6: Decisions, decisions (slow, rom Mg, no sex)
After saying my goodbyes, Priya and her family left
for the evening. I paused in the foyer before heading
to the living room to hear Dad's real feelings on what
had transpired this evening.
I didn't know what to expect from him, but I knew he
had a bad habit of privately blowing off steam before
settling down to a calm, coherent discussion.
How was I going to explain it to him? Hell, I didn't
fully comprehend what I was feeling: One thing I did
know was that I had to have Priya in my life! Knowing
less about her than I did Sarah, I still felt that she
was my soul mate. Armed with this, I walked to the
living room to face my parents.
When I entered the living room, Mom was sitting on the
sofa and Dad was pacing back and forth in front of
her. He stopped, and they both turned to look at me
for a second. My father motioned for me to sit next to
Mom, which I did.
Without speaking, Dad began pacing again, Mom just
looked at me with a look that said, "Get ready, here
it comes!"
Dad stopped, faced us and began, "Just what the fuck
happened here tonight? Whatever happened to the 'I
could never picture myself pursuing a girl that age'
line of crap? What the fuck are we going to do about
THIS? No! Don't anyone answer that yet!
If I don't get this shit out of my system now, I'm
liable to say something I'll really regret later."
Looking at me, he began again. "Don't you realize what
this will do to me?"
Mom interjected, "John, this isn't just about you."
He spat back "That's exactly what I mean! When I say
me, I mean me, you, Sean, the company: our future!
People go to jail for this shit back home! Even
thinking about it would bring everything to ruin. Not
counting the fact that Sean, and possibly anyone else
that considered, aided or abetted what we're talking
about could be prosecuted and go to jail!
Sean, could you really, possibly even think about
fucking an 11 year-old girl?"
Mom spat back, "John! There's absolutely no need to
talk like that about her!"
Dad looked at Mom with defiance and retorted, "Shut
the fucking hell up! It's a valid question."
I looked Dad in the eye and firmly stated " I can
certainly imagine making love to her, but not simply
fucking her, as you put it."
"Well, if memory serves me right, whatever kind of
gloss you what to put on it, making love requires a
certain amount of fucking!"
Trying to defuse the situation before he and I got
into verbal fist-o-cuffs, I said, "Why don't we
discuss this when you can have an objective
conversation without being crude and offensive?"
With that, he seemed to calm a little, then began
again, "Look son, my delivery might have been a bit
crude, but it's still a valid point. That point, or
should I say points, being: One, marrying an 11 year-
old girl; two, consummating that marriage and
maintaining a conjugal relationship with her; three,
no matter how smart or mature she may seem, the law
will see it as a form of controlling and taking
advantage of her, contributing to the delinquency of a
minor for carnal motives, and four, any other shit
that comes along that we haven't even thought of!
Sean, I know this must be as hard on you as it is on
us, but how do you feel right now? How do feel--
exactly--about her?"
I thought for a moment to try and best vocalize things
I hadn't had time to really sort out, and began
slowly, "I feel consumed: totally and helplessly
consumed. Consumed with love and desire, of a desire
to have her with me to love her forever; a desire to
share my life and that love with her, a desire that...
it's so hard to explain right now.
There's a passion and a deep desire to express these
things intimately, but I wouldn't call it lust: more
like a primal need that only she can fill: does that
make any sense?"
As I was revealing all this to my parents, and
acknowledging it to myself for the first time, I began
to vividly picture Priya my mind: her dark, seductive
and mysterious eyes; her radiant face, the warmth of
her smile, her small hands, tiny frame and hips, her
budding breasts all the way down to her delicate feet.
All of her wrapped up in a tiny, petite package of
pure innocence contained within the warmth and
flawlessness of her light, chocolate skin... my breath
quickened within me and I started to become erect.
Yes' I wanted her, every single cell of her. As I
hardened, I accepted my primal, carnal need to have
her, to consume her in every way possible to consume a
woman. Her age and innocence, I now realized, was an
added elixir of desire that somehow, fanned the flames
of my passionate need-- and love-- for her. Was I a
'closet pervert?'
Was I kidding myself, or rationalizing? Was I using
love as a 'reason' to think with my dick, confusing
love with lust? I know little of love between a man
and a woman, but I think physical desire or maybe even
lust are all mixed up and a part of it all: I can't
imagine having one without the other if I'm desirous
of an intimate relationship, can I?
With tears in my eyes, I looked at Mom, then Dad and
said, "I need her... God help me, I so desperately need
her."
Mom started crying and hugged me, while dad just
simply shook his head.
I suddenly remembered the words of the Imam while
describing finding something within her. I told my
parents that the Imam had said something I didn't
really notice, at the time, would be all too prophetic
in describing tonight's events.
As if, like a distant voice instructing me to repeat
him word, word for word, I said, "The Imam told me 'If
Allah ordains the marriage, there will be something
about her that will move your heart to seek out the
source. Deep within her where that source resides, you
will find your bride. The rest is up to you and your
personal walk with Allah, Praise and peace be upon
Him.'"
My father, although not denying the hand of God in
tonight's events, didn't openly acknowledge it either.
He simply said, " If this is truly meant to be, then
we need answers immediately. First, Sean, you'll have
to contact that 'I-maam' or 'I-mom' or whatever he's
called tomorrow. Find out all you can about the
legalities of these kinds of marriages. I'll call Adib
in the morning about any marriages like this being
legally sanctioned by Indian law, and I'll also call
the US Consulate and see if INS will recognize such a
marriage: if it ain't legal, it ain't gonna happen!
Got That! Love or no love, you aren't going to go to
jail just because your sweetheart is 11 years old! I
can't fucking believe that I'm even considering this!"
Mom spoke up and said, "Sean, I agree with your dad. I
think this is our only avenue to take. I don't really
care what our religions beliefs are, if it's not a
marriage legally sanctioned in India's courts, and you
can't obtain a legitimate marriage license, then to
me, it's not a real marriage sanctioned by God.
Let's go to bed, and tomorrow, do what we need to do
to resolve this one way or another."
Dad said, "I'm not sure how much sleep any of us will
get, but your mom's right. Let's go to bed."
With that, Mom and I rose, then we all said good night
and headed upstairs to bed.
The next morning, after my morning rituals, I said my
morning prayers with even more fervor, pleading for
assurance and guidance. I then headed down to what I
fully expected to be a tense breakfast, which it was.
Mom and Dad said very little, but Dad was discussing
the day's duties as if we had a business deadline to
meet. To me, this was normal for him, and the best way
to organize our 'research.'
I did manage to get an appointment with the Imam at
1:30 this afternoon, and was sitting in the study when
Dad told me to call the US Consulate. I left to do his
bidding while he called Adib.
I called the embassy, and was finally connected to the
consul in charge of K-1 fiancé and K-3 spousal visas.
He told me that the US would accept a marriage as
legal if there was a valid certificate of marriage
registered with the Indian government in the Marriage
Certification Book in the district in which the
marriage took place. Muslim or Hindu religious
registrations of marriage aren't considered valid and
legal by the Indian or US government unless they are
validated by government registration.
Dad had finished talking to Adib about the same time I
finished my call, and we compared notes. Dad said that
Adib had told him the same thing, and basically the
procedure to get a valid marriage certificate. One of
them being, a 'notice of intention to marry ' had to
be recorded in a Marriage Notice Book for 30 days. If
no objections to the marriage were made within this
time, a legal marriage could take place. Adib assured
dad that whomever Priya married, she would follow the
law and get a legally registered marriage license,
although he would have to 'pull some strings' because
of her age, but that didn't pose any problem for him.
With Mom present for all of this, she seemed to be
optimistic about the chances for a legal resolution,
when dad said, "Well, at least we know you two will be
'courting' for at least 30 days. That should give us
some time to get to know whether or not you two have
what it takes to get to that point. I'm tellin' you
boy, she'd better be worth her salt!"
Mom agreed, but added, "She sure wrapped you around
her finger last night didn't she?" then added a
chuckle.
Dad just gave Mom a slight smile and a "Hmmmf."
Leaving that one alone. I asked Dad whether he thought
it was necessary for me to still meet with the Imam,
or put it off until we were closer to an actual
marriage, and he agreed. So, I called the Imam back,
and thanked him for making time for me, but that it
wasn't necessary to meet just yet, and he was ok with
it.
It seemed that by 2pm, we were finished with our
'research.' All we had to do was wait until tonight to
meet with the Haaseems.
I went to my dad's country club for a swim and to work
out in the gym. I hadn't done any exercise since
arriving, and needed to work off some tension anyway.
While working out, I kept getting distracted thinking
of Priya. What would life be like, having such a young
and tiny bride? Does my size frighten her in any way?
Waking up each morning, her to school and me to run a
company. Even though, like she, I was 'advanced' at
the same age, I still relied a lot on my mom: would
she need to be near hers? I was amused to think that
one of my 'husbandly'